Dying Not To Hurt You
by CasHdst
Summary: Patricia Taylor is just a normal girl who is home alone one night. That night, everything changes. But is it to the better or to the worse? EdxOC ANNOUNCEMENT: currently doing a rewrite.
1. In My Arms, She Dies

Hi everybody! This is the fanfiction my sister (gaah! I can't remember her username! She'll kill me!) and I started to write a while ago. This is our first, so it might be a little weird, but I bet y'all can handle it.

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother and Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot. **

Chapter one: In My Arms, She Dies

Patricia Taylor sat at her desk trying to write an essay. It didn't go well, and she cursed under her breath now and then.

"Damn teacher giving me homework," she muttered. She was saved by a knock at her door. Temporarily saved.

"Trish? Are you there?" the voice of her father asked.

"Yeah. Come in."

The door opened and Anthony Taylor appeared.

"Hello sweetheart," he said. "You know... I told you before that I'd have to go away for a bit tonight."

"Yeah, I remember. Paperwork. It's your boss, eh? Why won't you just quit?" Patricia asked in the voice of a three-year-old.

"I... I just can't," her father answered. "I wouldn't get hired anywhere else."

There was a moment of awkward silence, before Anthony broke it by saying "I think I'll just get going."

He left the room, and after a minute Patricia heard the front door slam shut.

She became very restless. No time for that stupid essay. Who cares about science anyway?

She went through the house to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator. No fun inside at all. Just milk and cheese. She sighed and walked over to the TV to zap between the three channels that were available.

When she had zapped through the channels ten times the doorbell rang. She sighed once more, raised from her comfy couch and walked slowly to the door. She opened the door and saw a black-haired man fire this car-selling smile at her.

"Excuse me, miss, but would you like to buy our newest vacuum-cleaner?" The man held a blue, shiny vacuum-cleaner in his hands.

"Erm... no thanks, we already have one," Patricia said and gave the man a polite smile.

"No, but... you have to!"

"I don't have to do anything I don't w..."

"Please?"

Still smiling the man pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.

"No..."

Patricia took a step back, but then her body became frozen in fear.

'_Fuck, he'll kill me, he'll kill me, what the hell should I do?' _The sentence repeated in her head over and over again.

She heard a loud _bang_, and in a matter of milliseconds she laid on the floor, her blood making a puddle under her.

The man walked over to her and looked down at her face.

"Thank you, miss, and have a nice day." When she looked into the man's warm black eyes, she knew that she'd never forget this face.

Anthony sat in his car, feeling guilty that he'd left Patricia home alone for the millionth time.

But now, now he was on his way home. He'd come up with an excellent way to repay her for all her lonely time.

He would buy her a dog. Patricia had wanted one longer than he could remember. The dog ought to keep her out of the loneliness.

He got out of the car, with a smile on his face, and went to the small house he called his home. He opened the front door.

"Trish! Sweetheart! I've decided to..."

And then he saw her, lying in a pool of her own blood with a face paler than Death itself. His eyes filled up with fear and his mind went blank.

'_What should I do? What should I do?'_

"_Call 911_" a little rational voice in his head said.

"Uh... right," he said out loud while dialing the number.

When the cool voice answered he shouted at her

"My daughter... in the hallway... blood... blood everywhere..."

"I'm sending an ambulance. Where do you live?"

"In my house..." He realized she needed an address. "51 saint Jimmy's street."

"I'm sending an ambulance," the woman repeated. "Now, tell me... What's your daughter's name?"

"Her name... her name? Patricia... but I call her Trish, and her friends call her Trisha."

"Is she breathing?"

He checked. "Yes, I think so."

"Listen to me, the ambulance will arrive very soon, so just keep talking to me, okay?"

"Yes, I'll... I'll keep talking..."

Patricia watched her father struggle. She wasn't in her body anymore, no, she was standing in front of this huge gate looking down at the scene.

"Dad! I'm here!" she wanted to scream, but she knew he wouldn't hear her.

She heard a shrieking sound and turned around to see what it was. The enormous stone gate had opened and revealed thousands of eyes staring at her. Long black arms came out and curled themselves around her tiny body. The last thing she heard before she was dragged through the doors was her father screaming her name and the television news.

"Next: a warning. A man has escaped from a mental asylum. He's got black hair and dark eyes. He's armed with a..."

"Trish! No! No, stay with me! No, TRISHA!"

Inside the gate everything was black. It was absolutely quiet, except for a small voice calling out Patricia's name.

"What?" she answered the voice.

"You have two choices," it said. "Either you die, disappear, the end of all you've ever been, or you can sacrifice something and go to another world."

"I don't want to die," she cried. "I'll go to this other world!"

"Then we'll take two important things of yours. One: your left leg, to ensure your existence, two: your memory of your present life, so you can start over.

"What? My memory...? No!"

"You had a choice. You chose to live and therefore sacrifice."

"What the...?"

Suddenly she felt a terrible pain rushing through her veins, every inch of her body felt like it was burning and she saw things, things she never knew about. Her memory slowly slipped away. The only thing she saw and knew was everything but nothing that was flashing before her eyes.

_The only things you will remember are your name, the Gate and your moment of Death..._

--

Song of the day: The Ghost of You – My Chemical Romance

As I said, a little weird, eh? Please tell me if I spelled anything wrong or something like that.


	2. Who Does He Think He Is?

Hi everyone! New chapter, and I hope this one's good, too.

--

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother and Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot. **

Chapter two: Who Does He Think He Is?

_The only things you will remember are your name, the Gate and your moment of Death..._

The sentence rang in Patricia's head as she woke up. Still a bit sleepy she sat up. She started to look around. The room... she didn't recognize it. There was just the small bed she laid in, a fragile wooden chair and a lamp without lampshade. The walls were painted in a dull green color and in the middle of the old wooden floor there was an old mat. The little window with the thick green curtains on the west wall didn't let more light in than necessary.

She tried to get up and find somebody who could explain why she was here, but she couldn't feel her left leg.

Then it all came back to her; lying on the floor shot through the chest, that huge stone gate, the voice taking away all she ever had, all the information of something she didn't know about being forced into her head... That black-haired man with those warm black eyes looking down at her.

"Hello? Somebody?" she whispered.

The floor planks squeaked as someone walked over them. The doorknob turned and the door opened. In the doorway a muscular man stood.

"Where am I"? Patricia asked the man as he went in and sat down on the chair.

"Well, I can answer that question. You are in Rush Valley, 'Automail Capital of the World.'"

"Oh. Is that so...?" Patricia didn't know where Rush Valley was, so it didn't help much.

"What's 'automail'?" she asked the man.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of automail," he replied.

"As a matter of fact, I haven't. But more important, who are you?"

The man looked around in the room.

"Who? Oh, you mean me! I'm Sean Lewis, and you?"

"Trisha. Patricia Taylor. How did I get here?"

"I found you in the middle of the street bleeding to death. I took you here and got you a doctor," Sean said simply.

"Oh. Thanks."

"You must be dehydrated! Wait a second and I'll get you something to drink." Patricia watched Sean disappear through the door. He came back half a minute later with a big glass of water.

"Hm," he muttered and handed her the glass. "Now what should we do with that leg of yours?"

"W-what do you...?"

"Well you can't stumble around like that, can you?" Sean said and pointed at her non-existing left leg.

"Oh, that," Patricia said with a heavy sigh.

"As I see it you have two choices. Either automail, or an ordinary artificial leg."

"Ermm... what's automail?"

"Oh, yeah, you didn't know that, did you? Well, automail is a mechanical limb, which works just like normal. The worst about them is that you have to attach _all your nerves_ to the thing. I'm not gonna play doctor and say it won't hurt a bit, 'cause in the end it hurts as hell. Makes it kind of painful, but without nerves it won't work, you know."

Patricia stared at him. A mechanical limb...?

"And as it happens, I am a decent automail mechanic myself! So if you want automail, I can start working on it immediately. Free of charge!"

"I-I would really appreciate if you could make my automail," Patricia said.

"Are you sure? I mean, it'll hurt a lot, and since you're a girl..."

"THE FACT THAT I'M A GIRL DOESN'T MEAN THAT I'M WEAK!!"

"O-okay, then I'll start at once!" Sean said smiling.

--

Building the leg took about six days. During that time Sean and his wife Loraine took very good care of Patricia. Since she couldn't walk normally, Loraine would come with every meal to her bed, even though she objected loudly and said that if they just could borrow her some crutches or a cane or something she could come and eat with them. But, no, Loraine continued to bring her food like the stubborn lady she was.

Later - exactly a week from when she had woke up in the Lewis' house - Patricia's automail surgery took place.

The only real hard thing was to stay awake. Her brain wanted to shut down to help her shield the pain out, but she wouldn't let it. She had to stay awake.

And, oh yeah, pain came frequently, never stopping until several hours after they were done. She didn't feel the last three hours of pain; the pigheadedness of Patricia Taylor finally got to an end and she fainted.

She was out cool for almost eight hours, and when she woke up she was curious. She tried her new leg little by little, and soon she was standing on her own two legs. Shakily, but still standing. It did feel a little strange to not have a leg in flesh and bone, but the machinery worked absolutely fine as a replacement.

She would need to get more used to the leg, rehabilitee and such. She counted it would take her about six months. Sean had said that it would take nine months, but how much time can it take getting used to something that'll be yours forever?

Later, she would know that it can take an eternity to get used to anything, and that 'forever' is a very strong word.

--

Four months later, October 16th

"I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS HELL HOLE!" Patricia screamed while kicking away a rock. She'd been thinking a lot lately. Mostly about her automail leg, but also about her few memories. It did concern her, what the Gate had told her, that they took her leg and memory. 'The only things you'll remember are your name, the Gate and your moment of Death'? It just didn't make sense. Well, what do, really?

Then there was this dream. She dreamed almost every night of the man with the black eyes saying "Thank you, miss, and have a good day." It freaked her out every single time. She always woke up wanting to scream.

And as she walked around Rush Valley thinking, she bumped into someone. She looked up to say sorry, but saw that it wasn't an ordinary human. He wore armor, and was about six feet tall.

Beside the armored man was a blonde guy, not taller than 5'5''. She knew that because she was barely 5'2''. His long blonde hair was put up in a braid – very manly – and his eyes were golden yellow. He wore black leather pants and a little black jacket which revealed his right automail arm. There was also a blonde girl, a little taller than the braid-guy, who had a light green top and a black miniskirt. In her hand she had a wrench, and she didn't look afraid to use it.

The short one turned to her. He looked at her a moment, before saying "Why the fuck are you staring?"

Patricia got speechless. She simply didn't know what to say. Besides, what _should_ one say in a situation like that? She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times.

"N-no reason, sorry," she stammered.

The boy glared at her a second and turned to see what was going on a bit down the road. There was a crowd of people around two men. One of them was large with two huge automail arms, and the other was rather skinny.

"Come here, people!" the skinny one shouted. "Come here and see Automail Arm wrestling!"

The curiosity got a firm grip on Patricia, and she walked over, wondering what it was, this 'Automail Arm wrestling' was. She saw that the braid-guy, the armored man and the wrench-girl followed her, obviously curious they, too.

When Patricia got there, she pushed herself into the mass of people saying "sorry, shorty coming through." She squeezed through the crowd and got in the absolute front, just so she could see over all the giants.

She saw a brown-haired girl lying on the ground with something that appeared to be shattered wood around her.

"Very close!" the skinny man said.

"If you want, I'll give you the name of a good mechanic," the man with the automail arms said in a rough voice.

The girl on the ground stood up and ran away.

"Is there no one else who dare challenging the champ?! What about you, sir?" The skinny man pointed at the armored man. "Sure, you look big and strong, but how'd 'ya like to prove it?"

"You mean me? N-no, thank you."

To Patricia's big surprise, the armor-man had a light voice, just like a little boy. Either, he was a small boy playing in the huge armor, or, he was a man with the tiniest voice ever.

"That's too bad! Hm, what about...?" the skinny man pointed at the braid-guy. "Nah, I couldn't possibly ask this shrimp to take on the champ! HAHAHA!"

"I'M NOT A SHRIIIMP!!" the braid-guy screamed. He became furious, and the armor-man had to hold him back so he wouldn't attack the skinny man.

"WOW, you're a feisty shrimp, aren't 'ya!? You look like you salvaged that automail from the bottom of a scrap-heap! HAHAHA!"

The wrench-girl's eyes went black, and said with a voice angrier than the braid-guy's "Alphonse, let go of your brother...!"

The armor-man, now known as Alphonse loosened the grip on his brother, saying "yes, ma'am."

Patricia started to wonder. How could it happen that the two of them were brothers? Alphonse seemed to be a lot older than the braid-guy, like being braid-guy's father or something. But, obviously not. They could go on and be brothers as much as they liked, Patricia decided not to give a damn about them anyways.

--

Song of the day: Thnks Fr Th Mmrs – Fall Out Boy


	3. Maybe I'll be Back Around

Hi again! Another update (yay). However, feel free to come with constructive criticism. It will be warmly welcommed and worshipped.

* * *

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot. **

Chapter three: Maybe I'll be Back Around

Patricia walked away, sighing, when she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. She turned around, breathing heavily, facing Alphonse.

"I-I'm sorry!" Alphonse said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just going to apologize for my brother's behavior earlier. He usually isn't like this; he's in a bad mood today."

Patricia blinked and said "Do you always do like this?"

"Like what?" Alphonse said confused.

"Like apologizing for your brother?"

"Um... yeah, I guess," Alphonse said, scratching the back of his head.

"You know what?" Patricia said looking up at him. "I think I like you." Alphonse looked surprised for a second, but then smiled and scratched the back of his head.

"So, where are you living?" Patricia continued.

"Nowhere, really. We're travelling around, a little here, a little there."

"I see."

"Where are you living?"

"Well, I've lived here a month, but I'm tired of living here, so I guess I'm heading somewhere else."

"Where did you live before, then?"

"Let's talk about that another time," she said quietly, looking down at her shoes.

"Oh... I'm sorry."

"No worries," she smiled. "Where are you headed to next?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, we're headed to Central."

"Central?"

"Yeah. Do you want to come with us?"

"Sure. Where's Central?"

"Look," Alphonse said making a circle in the air with his hands. "If this is the country... Central is here." He said pointing in the middle of the imaginary circle.

"Oh, I see. Makes sense."

"Yeah."

"So, when's the train leaving?"

"5.30 A.M."

"Okay. I'll be there," Patricia said, sighing that it was so early.

"Okay, but now I have to go. My brother's waiting."

"Off and see your brother then! I'll see you on the train!"

Alphonse ran away waving, and Patricia could almost hear him smile.

Patricia walked slowly to Sean's and Loraine's house. Now all she had to do was to say thank you and goodbye and then she wouldn't have to be in Rush Valley anymore.

When she got there she opened the door, went in to the hallway shouting "Sean! Where are you?" while walking through the house. She rounded a corner to the kitchen, and there Sean sat on a chair with his feet on the kitchen table and a cigarette in his mouth.

"Hiya, kid!" he said when he saw Patricia.

Patricia didn't answer. She sat down on a kitchen chair.

"I'm leaving," she said simply.

"Okay. When?"

"Tomorrow. Early."

"How early?"

"5.30. A.M."

"It's not that early."

"Yes it's early. Morning is like nine or ten or something, not half past five. That's still night."

"Whatever. Where are you headed?"

"A place called Central."

"Now, let's see... A train ticket to Central..." He pulled out a wallet from his back pocket. "That should be about...this much" he said while handing her some of the money inside.

"Is it really this much?"

"Yes. It's a long trip you're taking there, kid."

A brief moment of silence passed while Sean stubbed out his cigarette.

"Thank you... for everything."

"You're welcome. Remember, you have to come here at least once a year so I can check your automail. But you could come here more often, you know." He stood up. "Now, I'll wake you up at 4.30 sharp tomorrow. Goodnight, kid."

"'Night," Patricia said quietly. Sean smiled at her and went in to his and Loraine's bedroom, leaving Patricia alone on the simple wooden chair by the kitchen table.

-----

"Patricia! Trisha! Wake up already!"

Patricia grunted. Why did he wake her at this hour?

Then it struck her. She would leave today. She had longed for this day. Now she would get out of Rush Valley.

Sure, she would get out of there, but she realized that she'd miss it; the sound of children waking her in the morning, the special way the sun slid over the sky, the non-stopping sound of metal against metal as the automail engineers were working on their last piece of art... Yes, she would miss it. But, still, it was the place she never would – never could – return to of her own free will. Why? Because this was the place where the most memories lingered, just waiting to attack. Only the other day she had seen a sunflower, and _snap_, there was a grave of a woman named Emmeline Taylor. Who was she? An aunt? A mother? A sister? A grandmother? Heaven knew.

So that's why she wanted to go. She was afraid of what memories there was left to discover. She simply ran away from them, like your average coward.

Patricia got up from the bed and walked into the kitchen where Sean and Loraine already sat at the table eating bread and cereals.

"Good morning," Loraine smiled at her. "Are you hungry? I can make you some toast if you'd like."

"No, 's okay. Cereals'll do," Patricia mumbled while trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She grabbed a bowl and filled it with milk, cereals and jam. Usually, she wouldn't eat this much, but who knew when she'd have her next meal? The money Sean had given her would just be enough for the ticket, she thought. How would she be able to pay for food and a place to stay? Well, that was a concern of the next time she needed to eat.

"Look, kid," Sean began to say. "I've put something in your bag, if you ever want it to be hidden."

"What?"

"In your bag, there's a pair of socks, if you ever need them. They keep it hidden, the metal leg."

"O-okay."

"You haven't lost the money I gave you yesterday, have you, kid?"

She patted her pocket. There was a bunch of paper. The money. She hadn't lost it. Luckily enough.

"No, of course I haven't."

"Honey," Loraine said, "The clock's almost ten past five now, you'll have to go now."

"You want me to come and wave you off?" Sean asked.

"Not really." It would make it harder for her. She wouldn't want to go if he came.

"You really have to go now, honey"

"Uh... right." Patricia grabbed the suitcase Loraine had forced upon her and made sure she had the money.

"I don't know how I'd make it without you..." she started.

"Go now! I know you owe us like a thousand years of thankfulness, but you're missing your train if you keep slacking like that!"

"Yes. Goodbye!" She ran away.

She ran for about fifteen minutes, and then she arrived to the station. She didn't see Alphonse or his brother, the braid-guy, so she assumed they were already on the train.

"Last chance: the train to Central is leaving in a minute!"

Central... That's where she was going! She got on the train, and behind her the doors closed. She began to try to find Alphonse.

"Mission accomplished," she whispered to herself when she saw the waving armored man.

"Hi boys!" she said as she walked to Alphonse and his brother.

"Al...Who is..." braid-guy started to say. "It's you! The starer!"

"Will I always be known as the 'starer'?" Patricia snorted.

"Oh, of course, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Alphonse Elric, and this is my brother, Edward Elric," Alphonse said, obviously because he didn't want them to fight.

"The Fullmetal Alchemist!" Edward added proudly.

"I'm Patricia Taylor, but I'd rather be called Trisha."

Braid-guy's – sorry, _Edward's_ – eyes widened as she said her nickname.

"Well, who's the starer now?" Patricia said sourly.

"Sorry," Edward said and looked out the window.

Patricia had realized that she still stood up, and the now moving train made it hard for her to keep balance.

"Er... can you move so I can sit down, or should I stand the whole trip?" she asked the lying Edward, since Alphonse filled a whole seat.

"You stand," Edward said sounding bored.

"Brother!" Alphonse shouted.

"I was just kidding."

"No you weren't! I know you! You were going to let her stand!"

"Now, brothers shouldn't fight," Patricia said tired.

"You're right. Now move, Ed."

"No, I won't. You said it yourself, that I wouldn't move."

"Brother!" Alphonse shouted at the same time Patricia shouted "Edward!"

"Alright, alright..." Edward said, sitting up.

"Thank you, Edward. That was very kind of you," Patricia said ironically.

Neither of the brothers said anything. They seemed to be in deep thought. Patricia didn't want to be the one breaking the silence, didn't want to be the one to bother Edward even more then she already had.

The loud _thump_ing the train made while making its way through the empty landscape was tiring. Since Patricia had barely slept the night before the train's monotone lullaby made her fall asleep quickly.

-----

_Patricia woke up lying on soft grass. Blinking, she stood up. Where was she? She looked around. All she seemed to see was hundreds of millions of gravestones, which told her that she was in a graveyard. _

_A black-dressed crowd stood only fifteen feet away. She became curious and walked over there. There was about ten people standing around a newly dug grave, and the coffin still showed. Nearest the grave a man in a white dress stood messing. She didn't care to listen. It was probably a priest or something, and she couldn't stand men of the church. _

_The grave made her feel uncomfortable. Why has she here? Whose grave was it? Maybe it was Emmeline's?_

"_And may us all remember Patricia Taylor-"_

_She flinched as she heard her name. Her grave? She wasn't even dead, was she?_

"_- Amen."_

"_Amen," a man repeated. Patricia jumped a little. She hadn't realized anyone was this close. _

_She saw the man's face. He looked tired and worn, and he had the same black hair and grey eyes as Patricia. She recognized him as her father. Her father, mourning for her at her funeral, as she stood beside him watching. This wasn't right. No parent should be allowed to survive their children like this. _

"_I'm sorry," Anthony whispered to her grave. "I'm so sorry."_

"_Me too," Patricia said to him, even though she knew that he wouldn't hear her. _

_She looked at her grave stone. It was beautiful with the golden words "Patricia Taylor *21/12 1992, † 16/6 2008" graved into black marble. _

_Her father still stood there, just looking at the inscription. _

"_I'm so sorry."_

---

Song of the day: Landing in London – Three Doors Down


	4. Another Turning Point

Fullmetal Alchemist fan fiction

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter four: Another Turning Point

Her body jerked forward as she woke up. That was one weird dream. Her funeral in the world she used to belong to. Creepy.

"Are you okay?" Alphonse asked.

"Yeah. Bad dream, that's all." She looked over to Edward, who was just staring through the window at the gray rainy fog outside. She heard a loud, muffled noise, which seemed to be coming from Edward's stomach.

"Are you hungry, Edward? I can go and buy you a sandwich if you want."

"No, I'm not hungry. What makes you think...?" He got interrupted by another loud growl.

"_That_ makes me think you're hungry. Are you hungry, Alphonse?"

"N-no, I ate when you and brother were sleeping."

"Okay. Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asked Edward.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Well, then. I'm going to the food car." And with that, Patricia left.

She started to walk to her left, but she got insecure and walked back. She felt so stupid. She didn't even know where the food car was.

"Erm... where's the food car?" she asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Right," Alphonse kindly answered. Edward just snorted, which Patricia decided to ignore.

"In the front?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Thank you!" Still gravely troubled by her stupidness, she walked right, as Alphonse had said she should.

And, yes, of course she could buy herself a sandwich. Sean, that unselfish old man, had given her _way_ too much money. The ticket hadn't even cost half of the money he'd given her. It wasn't fair. She could handle herself.

Still, deep, deep down she was extremely grateful. Why wouldn't she be? Now, she had money enough to survive until she got a home and a job.

Anyways, she got to the car, and bought two sandwiches – one for her and one for Edward. She didn't believe that crap about him not being hungry. After that, she walked back to Edward and Alphonse.

"Here," she said and handed Edward one of the sandwiches.

"I said I didn't want one," he said.

"And I didn't listen. Are you going to take it or not?" Edward glared at her as he took the sandwich and bit it.

"There, it wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Alphonse chuckled, earning a glare from Edward. Patricia took a bite of her own sandwich. It tasted so good, and it filled her empty stomach slowly. She glanced over to Edward, who already had eaten half of his sandwich.

"Not hungry, eh?" she asked sarcastically.

"Nope. Just eating to be nice," he answered with his mouth full of bread.

"Right..." She looked over to Alphonse.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asked.

"...Yeah. I'm sure." Alphonse got quiet and didn't let his gaze leave the window.

The landscape outside had changed. There was still a rainy tone over the world, but now she could see through the grey mist out to large open fields and dull green forests.

"Now tell, what _are_ you two gonna do in Central? Seriously?" she asked.

"Well, we're going to see the Colonel, and write a report to him," Alphonse replied. "We're also going to the Library and to visit Lieutenant Colonel Hughes..."

"Who's the Colonel, and who's this Hughes-person?"

"Erm, the Colonel's name is Roy Mustang-"

"The bastard," Edward threw in.

"Why?" Patricia asked. "Why's the Colonel a bastard?"

"He teases me."

"How?"

"He..."

"He what...?"

"He calls me...."

"C'mon, spit it out."

"Short."

"He calls you short? Actually, Edward, that's not teasing, that's stating the obvious."

"WHO DO YOU CALL SO SMALL HE CAN'T EVEN BE SEEN WITH A MAGNIFYING GLASS?!!?"

"I never said that!"

"Calm down, brother...!"

"GAAAAAAAH!!"

-----

Edward eventually calmed down, and then Alphonse continued to explain.

"As I said, Roy Mustang is the Colonel and the Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes and his wife Gracia have been really kind to us."

"Oh, the, I want to meet him. Not Mustang, just Hughes and his wife."

"They're nice. Did I mention they have a little kid? Her name's Elysia."

"That's so sweet! I love children! How old is she?"

"She'll turn three, soon, I think."

"Oh, she must be a real cutie!" Patricia laid her half-eaten sandwich on the table between Edward and Alphonse as she kept on discussing Hughes's kid.

Edward glanced at what was left of the sandwich.

"Are you gonna eat that?" he asked slowly.

"No, I'm not hungry anymore."

"....Can I have it?"

"Sure."

Edward attacked the sandwich with the force of an elephant, and before anyone could say "eaten" it was gone.

"And you weren't hungry."

"Nope, not at all."

Patricia rolled her eyes and turned to Alphonse again.

The two of them talked for around forty-five minutes about everything between Hughes and cats. They both avoided the subject "past" as much as possible, neither of them wanted to reveal anything. The conversation died with the time, and soon they had nothing to say, and they remained silent a couple of minutes.

"I'm bored," Patricia muttered. "Are we there yet?"

"No," she heard Edward say.

"...What do you do on a train anyways?"

"Sit. Watch. Sleep. Eat. Read."

"...What'd you say last?"

"Read."

"I don't like reading."

"So... you don't read a lot?"

"Yes I do!! I've read Pride and Prejudice, but that one was for school, so that doesn't count, I guess. I've read...The Sisterhood of Travelling Pants, but I stopped reading at Costas sneak-peek on Lena, but I've read Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion, but that was for school, too. Oh! I've read Twilight! I read the whole first book, but in the second Edward left, so I got mad and stopped reading that one, too. But, let's see, I've read... I've read..."

"Okay, I get it, you've read a lot. But I bet you haven't read _this_." Edward held up a big, thick brown book.

"What the _heck_ is _that_?"

"A book. Here, take it." Patricia grabbed the book and read the title.

"Ten steps to... 'Ahl-keh-mee'?"

"Alchemy."

"What's that?"

"Alchemy: the science of understanding the structure of matter, breaking it down, and then reconstructing it as something else. It can even make gold from lead.

"But," he made a dramatic pause, "alchemy is a science, so it must follow the natural laws. To create, something of equal value must be lost. This is the principle of Equivalent Exchange."

Patricia looked at Edward for a moment.

"What?" Edward asked rather loud.

"...I don't speak Greek."

"That wasn't Greek!"

"It can be Latin if you want it to, but I don't speak Latin either. I only speak English and French."

_The picture of a little girl with black hair and grey eyes popped up in her head. The girl sat humming on a song; Patricia didn't recognize it, beside a river. The girl was playing with some rocks, when she suddenly stood up at the sound of a woman's voice. _

"_Patricia!" the woman screamed with a French accent. "Patricia! __Où es-tu__!?" _

"_Maman__!" the small girl shouted back. "__Je suis ici__!"_

"_Ah! Anthony! __Je l'ai trouvé__!" her mother cried out to a man not far from where she was standing. _

"_Oh, thank goodness!" The man ran over. "Your mother and I have been worried sick about you! Promise me that you don't run off like that ever again!"_

_The little girl felt guilty as she looked down at her shoes saying "I'm sorry, dad. Je __suis__désolé__, __maman__". _

"_Come on, let's go home." Anthony grabbed Patricia's and her mother's hands and walked away, leaving the teenaged Patricia behind, and all she could do were to look at them as they slowly disappeared. _

"Patricia?" She flinched as a waving hand violently dragged her back to reality. She blinked a couple of times and the looked into the big yellow eyes of Edward Elric.

"Are you gonna read that book or not?" Still dazed by the flashback, Patricia opened the book without further protests.

But she didn't read just yet. She was thinking about the things that had set inside her head. The little girl, Patricia, must've been herself as a kid; the girl and the teen shared the same name, hair- and eye color. It was weird, she hadn't seen the black haired woman on her funeral, she had only seen Anthony. But, still, Anthony in the flashback had called the woman Patricia's mother. It just didn't add up.

But, what if the gravestone – Emmeline's gravestone – she'd seen before was her mother's?

Patricia smiled a bit. Now she at least knew her parent's names, Anthony and Emmeline, and that Emmeline was French. Her first few linked memories. It was nice to know that she hadn't just appeared randomly.

Even though she knew that her mother probably was dead, Emmeline was still only a memory without meaning. As were her father. She hadn't met them, so she couldn't possibly know that they were real. What if... what if those memories were made up by her stupid brain to make her feel easier?

No, now she would not doubt what she had seen. She would be happy with what she had gotten.

She looked down at the book in her hands. It looked ancient, like this alchemy-stuff had been used since the beginning of time. And, according to the book, it had. It had been used for thousands of years, and as the technology had improved, so had alchemy, blah, blah, blah.

As she got further into the book time went flying by. Patricia read for what she thought was fifteen minutes.

Several hours later she exclaimed "I know this stuff! I've seen it!"

"Where?" Edward's eyebrows furrowed together giving him a thoughtful look.

Patricia thought for a moment. Where _had_ she seen it? She winced and looked to the floor when her mind gave her the picture of a huge stone pair of doors.

"You know what?" she said. "I don't want to tell you."

Edward dropped his gaze to the floor.

"I can't believe that I'm actually saying this, but have you..." He lifted his head and his eyes locked with Patricia's. "...have you been to the Gate?"

Patricia looked dead serious as she said "depends".

"Depends on what?" Edward seemed a bit confused.

"I still don't know which gate you mean."

"Give me a hint then. You _have_ been to a gate, haven't you?"

"You know what? I'm not gonna answer that question, but..."

'_I'm going to give him a hint that he'll have no chance in hell to understand.'_

"...but if I say black spaghetti-arms?"

"Then I believe that we're talking about the same gate."

"...Okay, that's really creepy."

"So..." Edward began to speak again after another moment of silence, "have you lost anyone close to you? A friend, maybe? A sibling? A father? An aunt? A..."

"I lost my mother when I was eleven," Patricia interrupted, wondering what _that_ had to do with the subject. Later, she realized that she didn't know it until that very second.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Alphonse said sounding truly sorry.

"Who helped you?" Edward's eyes glowed with curiosity as he asked.

"Excuse me?" Now it was Patricia's turn to be confused.

"Who helped you?"

"Well, I went to a therapist for two weeks, but that didn't really help."

"The therapist helped you?"

"I just said he didn't!"

"Who helped you then? You couldn't possibly have done it by yourself and survived."

"Well... I did have a friend." _Snap._ "His name was Robin, he's gay by the way, and he helped me a lot."

"When did you do it?"

"Do what? You've totally lost me, boy."

"Stop messing with my head. We both know that you've done it."

"What? What did I do this time?!"

"_Please_ don't fuck with me. You broke the taboo!"

"Is it a fucking taboo to be killed!?" Patricia snapped. She took the alchemy book and ran out of the car.

Fighting back tears the whole way she ran through three or four cars, she didn't care to count.

'_Don't you dare begin to cry now. You've made four whole fucking months, you can't start now...At least not because of that runt.'_

She somehow managed to calm down enough to stop in a car with only an old lady and two small boys sitting in it. She sat down on an empty seat and continued to read the book.

FRENCH TRANSLATION:  
Où es-tu = where are you  
Maman = mother  
Je suis ici = I'm here  
Je l'ai trouvé = I've found her  
Je suis désolé = I'm sorry

---

Song of the day: Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) – Green Day


	5. Let the Guitar Scream

I'm so sorry! I didn't update yesterday and I feel really bad about it. Now, I'm gonna upload this chapter and go and feel sorry for myuself. And maybe write another chapter, we'll see.

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot. **

Chapter five: Let the Guitar Scream

Patricia didn't know for how long she'd been sitting alone, but both the old lady and the boys had left the train a good while ago. The book hadn't any more reading to offer, so Patricia was, once again, bored out of her mind But that book had caught her interest.

"What if...?" she said to herself and started to look around.

"Hah!" She'd found a screw, an innocent little screw that she'd now take advantage. _'I'm gonna try to carve in one of those circles.'_

Carving a circle into a wooden table wasn't the easiest thing to do. It took her around fifteen minutes and when she was ready it didn't look line a circle at all.

'_This isn't a circle_,_' she thought. 'This looks more like an egg or a lemon.'_

However, she decided that it would do. Egg or not, it was still round... sort of. But, now all she needed was an element. Where would she get that?

Oh, now she remembered. She touched her neck. Her chain, of course. Her mother had given it to her when she was still a small child. She slowly took it off and laid it in the egg-like circle.

'_Okay, and now what?_' She didn't know what to do next. At first, she just concentrated really hard on the chain becoming a small stick really hard. And when that didn't work, she visualized the stick transforming into a two inches long and ¼ inch thick stick. That didn't work either.

When she almost had given up, she raised a hesitating hand and touched the circle with the very top of her fingers.

A blue light appeared at the spot where her fingers had touched the circle. She flinched. She didn't know what to expect, but that wasn't one of the options, the flashing.

She stared at the circle and the necklace for a moment. The chain had melted together ever so slightly.

She put her hand on the circle again, and was more ready for the blue flashed this time. Her whole body pumped with adrenaline when the blue light reappeared.

The light was so strong that she automatically closed her eyes, but she still saw red flashes behind her eyelids.

When the blue light disappeared once again, she opened her eyes carefully and saw that her chain was gone. Instead, there was a pretty long – 4'' maybe – thin stick on the circle. Not quite as she had imagined it, but close enough.

She took the stick and sprinted back to the car she sat in before she got mad at Edward.

"Edward! Alphonse! Look! I enchanted my chain!" she yelled. "I did it!" the stick broke in half. "Almost. No! I enchanted my chain!" Now she had panic in her voice. "I enchanted it! No... No...! Edward, help me!"

"And why should I help you?" Edward, who had done nothing but stare until this point, finally seemed to have found his brain again, and was talking slowly to the panicking Patricia.

"Ah, Edward, c'mon, help me now! I got this from my mother!" At the word "mother" Edward flinched.

"Give it to me," ha said and took the stick. Well, the pieces of it, at least. He clapped his hands, and there it was again, the blue light.

"There you go." Edward handed Patricia the chain he held in his hand.

"Oh, my...! Edward! You enchanted it back! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

"You're welcome, I guess."

"But," Patricia said as she put the necklace back on its original place, "how'd you know what it looked like?"

"You had it around your neck, remember?"

"Yeah, I didn't think of that... But you enchanted it back! How can I possibly thank you enough?"

"You know what, Patricia?" Alphonse said to her. "It's not called 'enchant'. You usually say 'transmute'."

"Oh, is that so? But I can swear that I saw the word 'enchant' in that book...!"

"Probably in the sentence 'Thou shalt not call 'transmute' 'enchant'. If you do that thou shalt suffer a painful death'."Edward said in a mocking voice.

"It did not," Patricia said crossing her arms over her chest.

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Brother, Patricia, could you two stop fighting, please...?"

"No!" they both exclaimed. "She's annoying me!" Edward added.

"And you're one to talk, short stuff!"

"WHO DO YOU CALL A..." Edward stopped in the middle of the shouting and looked at Patricia as if measuring her. "Stand up."

"Me? Why?"

"Just do it!!"Patricia did as Edward told her, and saw that he was standing in front of her.

"HAH! You're shorter than me!" Edward made a small happy dance at that fact. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"If you say so, midget."

"YOU'RE IN NO PLACE TO CALL ME SHORT!"

"And why is that, _shorty_?"

"GAAAAH!"

"How old are you, really?"

"I turned sixteen a couple of days ago, why?"

"Ha-ha!! Sorry to destroy your happiness, but I'm younger than you, and I'm a girl, so I have right to be shorter!"

"How much younger?"

"I'll be sixteen November 21st."

"That isn't even two months younger, and there's no rule that girls should be shorter than boys, so I'm still taller!"

"But, brother, I think she's right..."

"SO? I'm still taller!"

-----

"Are we there yet?" Patricia whined.

"Yes, actually, we are," Alphonse said happy as ever.

"Okay." Patricia sighed. Soon, she would be out of this hell car also known as a train. It was uncomfortable seats, annoying people and irritating noise everywhere.

"WHY IS THE TRAIN STOPPING?!?" Patricia yelled when the train slowed down.

"We're leaving some people of, I think," Alphonse said.

"Oh." She looked out at the small city where the train had stopped. At the station there sat a man on a bench playing the guitar.

"Is there any possibility that we can open that window? I want to hear what that man's playing." Alphonse opened the window, allowing Patricia to hear the end of a song she recognized. It was the same song she'd heard the smaller Patricia hum before. Now she remembered it; it was a German nursery-rhyme. She couldn't recall its name, because it was German and not French.

The guitar-man hummed along. He hadn't got the best singing voice in the world, but it was amazing nevertheless. He played it simple, and she thought that the plainness made it so beautiful.

"_Mit dem purpurroten Mäntelein__..._" he sang, and with that the song ended. Almost immediately, he began playing a song she didn't know.

Ten songs later, she wasn't aware of the outer world anymore. The guitar-man had completely lured her into a secret area, and she was totally sold. She'd asked the Elric brothers more than once to go out and give him some of her money, but they kept saying "no, the train's leaving soon". As the last song began, she dropped her jaw to the floor.

"_Long ago, just like the hearse you died to get in again..._" It was Helena by My Chemical Romance! Her favorite song in the whole universe! She sat dazed, until the end of the song.

"_And if you carry on this way, things are better if I..._" The man interrupted himself, and Patricia looked out the window to see why he'd stopped playing. In front of the man, there were two policemen.

"Excuse me, but do you have permission to be here?" one of them said.

"Er... Yeah, of course! I... have my papers at home right now, but I could get them tomorrow, and you two can come back then. Same time, same place! Promise!"

"Yeah, that sounds great!" the other policeman said. "But I have a better idea. What if we, the two of us, follow you to your place, and we can look at your papers there!"

"O-of course! That's... great! If I can just... gather my things..." the guitar-man said. He carefully took the guitar and his hat and ran away, with the policemen chasing after him.

"Wonderful!" Patricia said. "Now I can't even listen to that man playing the guitar... now wait a second... WHY AREN'T WE MOVING!?!"

"We don't know..." Alphonse said, at the same moment the loudspeaker started screaming.

"We are sorry to report that we have a technical problem. We are counting to be back on track in about an hour. We are very sorry for the inconvenience this might cause."

"Inconvenience? Inconvenience?! Incon-" Patricia sighed. "We're never gonna get out of here, are we?"

"I don't think so," Alphonse answered.

-----

Patricia had complained, read, complained, thought and complained a bit more. She was _beyond_ the phrase 'bored out of her mind'. She sat on her seat leaned back mumbling "Are we there yet?".

"No," Edward sighed. "We aren't even moving."

"How long has it gone?" Patricia whined.

"A very long, immeasurable time," was Edward's reply.

"I miss my MP3..." Patricia whispered.

"What?" Edward asked.

"Nothing!" Patricia said. "I miss my refrigerator." She continued. "I miss my TV. I miss my computer. I miss my mixer." She saw that Edward rolled his eyes and let her continue with her mumbling. "I even miss school, and that's bad. I miss all the domestic appliances, even the vacuum-" Patricia stopped. She just couldn't say it. The man with the black hair and the black eyes overflowed her mind. "_Thank you, miss, and have a nice day..._" Patricia pulled her knees to her chest and sat on the seat rocking back and forth, back and forth...

"Are you alright, Patricia?" a worried Alphonse asked. Patricia knew that she nodded, but nothing more. She just sat there rocking and trying to free her mind of the killer.

-----

"Wait...I think I feel something..." The train slowly but safely began to move forward. "We are moving! WE ARE MOVING!" Patricia screamed and bounced around happily at her seat.

"Finally," she could hear Edward mumble.

"How long is it to Central?" Patricia was still bouncing of happiness.

"Well, we have around an hour left, I think," Alphonse said unsure.

"An... hour...?" If this were a cartoon, Patricia would have melted and slowly poured down to the floor. Instead, she put her head in her hands and muttered "I hate trains."

-----

"FINALLY! I'm out of that hell hole!" Patricia and the Elric brothers had, after several hours of just sitting still, been released from the train.

"Patricia...?"

"Yes, Alphonse?"

"You shouldn't scream in the middle of the station."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Well, well," Edward said. "If it isn't the Colonel himself."

Two men in blue uniforms were walking against the trio. Patricia saw that one of them had black hair and green-yellowish eyes. The other man had black hair and black eyes.

It was the man from her nightmares.

It was the man who had killed her.

---

Song of the day: I Don't Care – Fall Out Boy


	6. Stopped Doubting

Hi everybody! Another chapter, and I hope this one's good too.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot. **

Chapter six: Stopped Doubting

It really was him. The black hair, the black eyes...

Patricia turned around and ran away quicker than she ever had before. She couldn't be killed gain by the very same man, could she? She heard that someone was running after her, but she didn't care at the moment. She just wanted to get away from that man. She ran and ran until she was so exhausted that she dropped down on the ground.

"Damn you run fast." Patricia looked up to see a panting Edward Elric. "Why did you run anyways?"

"I saw him." Patricia had a firm grip around her legs and had them pulled tightly to her chest.

"Saw who?"

"My murderer."

"Murderer? You are alive as far as I can see."

"Okay, I was home alone, you see? I was watching TV when there was a fucking knock at the door. My dad has been searching for a better job for a very long time now, and I thought that it might me someone important, so I opened the door. At the door was a fucking vacuum-cleaner seller. He tried to sell me a fucking vacuum-cleaner, but I was like 'we already have one', and then he went like 'but, you have to' and pulled out a fucking _gun _and shot me in the chest. Wonderful, isn't it? And the next thing I knew I stood in front of a fucking gate watching when my father tries to save my life. I heard something, and of course I turned around. The gate opened and millions of billions of fucking eyes stared down at me. Long black arms came out of the gate and dragged me into it. Inside the gate, I heard this mocking voice – do you think that was what I needed at the moment? A voice _mocking_ me? – which tells me that either I disappear, or I can come to another fucking world. I was already in a mid-crisis, so I chose to come to this other world. Then, without warning it took my fucking leg and my fucking memory of everything except my name, the gate and my death. Wonderful, isn't it? And then, I woke up, and a man attached a piece of metal to my non-existing leg.

"Four months went by, and during that time I receive different memories. I saw my mother's grave, and I dreamed about my fucking funeral when I slept at the train. Then, all of a sudden, your brother showed up and said that I could come _here_. And then, on top of everything, I met _you_, the rudest person on Earth, and it seemed that you were born to annoy the living hell outta me. And now, when I'm out of that other fucking place, I see my fucking murderer. Wonderful, isn't it? Just fucking wonderful..." She broke down sobbing and wiping away tears she didn't even know had fallen.

"Did you see anything in the Gate?" Edward asked solemnly.

Patricia nodded. "That alchemy-stuff. It squeezed it into my brain, everything."

"Anything about human transmutation?"

She nodded again, too tired to do anything else. "Yes. I just want to wake up and hope it's just a dream. I don't even have a place to stay."

"We'll fix that. One last question, okay?" Patricia nodded once more. "Did you see a lot about human transmutation?"

She tried to say 'yes, a lot', but her throat let her down, and she just nodded.

"Okay, now we'll go back to the station..."

"I don't want to go back there! What if he's still there?" Patricia's voice was raspy, like if she hadn't talked for a long time.

"The Colonel's a busy man, Patricia. He's probably on his way back to the military headquarters. It's okay. As I said, we'll go back to the station and I'll talk to the other man – Lieutenant Colonel Hughes – and we'll figure something out." Patricia nodded at this and walked along with Edward back to the station.

"You wait here," he told her when they arrived. He walked over to Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and began to talk to him. Edward pointed and gesticulated wildly. After a couple of minutes, Edward come back and grabbed Patricia's elbow.

"Come here." He dragged her all the way to where the Lieutenant Colonel and Alphonse stood.

"Hello, I'm Maes Hughes, and Edward and I just agreed that you could stay with me and my family for a while if that's okay with you."

"Yes, it's okay. I'm Patricia Taylor."

"I know, Ed told me. But you must be exhausted! Let's go home. I bet Gracia's waiting for me." Patricia nodded again. She turned to Edward and Alphonse.

"Thank you, Edward, for helping me so much. And thank you, Alphonse, for getting me here. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know."

Edward smiled a bit. "You're welcome. I'll remember that promise of yours. Come on, Al." He turned around and left.

"I guess we'll be leaving too, then." Patricia went with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes to his house. It was quite a bit to go, and while they were walking Patricia thanked him at least twenty times. Mr. Hughes had also offered her a job as the Lieutenant Colonel's second assistant, along with a girl named Scieszka.

When they got to his house, there was a woman who opened the door for them.

"Hello, sweetheart," Mr. Hughes said to her. "This is Patricia, the girl I called you about, remember?" The woman smiled at Patricia.

"So you are Patricia?"

"Yes, and you are Mrs. Hughes, right?"

"That's correct. But you can call me Gracia if you'd like to. But you can't stand there all night! Come in!" Patricia and Mr. Hughes stepped in, and while doing so hey heard the sound of a door opening.

"Daddy, is that you? Daddy!" A small blonde girl came running down the stairs and hugged her father's legs, until said father lifted her and hugged her tight.

"Who is that, Daddy?" the girl said pointing at Patricia.

"This is Patricia, sweetie. Patricia, this is my wonderful daughter Elysia!"

"Oh, I've heard a lot about you, Elysia, but I never thought you'd be such a cutie!" Patricia said.

"Hello, Patricia."

"Isn't she just adorable?!" Mr. Hughes Exclaimed, hugging Elysia almost too tight.

"Come here, Patricia," Gracia said. "I'll show you to the guest room." Patricia followed Gracia upstairs to a wonderful room. The walls were painted in light blue and there were a quite big bed by the west wall. There were also a white chair by a white desk, and a white nightstand with a light blue lamp on it. Beside the desk stood a blue closet.

"Do you want me to make you some food?" Patricia had forgotten about Gracia and jumped a little at the sound of her voice.

"N-no, it's okay. I ate on the train."

"Okay. Goodnight, Patricia."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Gracia." Gracia left the room. Patricia began to search for a pajama in her small bag, and when she found one she quickly changed. She didn't bother to brush her teeth, so she collapsed at the big, comfortable bed and fell asleep.

-----

A happy child's laughter woke Patricia from her heavy sleep.

'_If it is the neighbor's kid again I swear I'll kill him,_' she thought and opened her eyes. She looked around in the room.

'_Where am I?_' She laughed a little. She was used to wake up to that thought by now.

"Patricia?" Gracia knocked lightly at the door. "Are you awake?"

Patricia grunted in answer. Now, wait a sec... Yeah, that's right. She was at Mr. and Mrs. Hughes's house. She got up and got dressed, and then went downstairs. She looked at the kitchen table and saw that Gracia had made her some tea.

'_Oh, dear Mrs. Gracia._'

"Good morning, Patricia!" Gracia came in through the back door carrying Elysia.

"Good morning, Mrs. Gracia! Good morning, Elysia!" Patricia began to slowly drink her tea.

"Good morning, Patricia!"

"I was wondering if you could babysit Elysia for a while." Gracia said. "I need to do some grocery shopping."

"Of course I can babysit her, Mrs. Gracia!" Patricia felt a bit relieved to do something for Gracia.

"Okay. I'll be back in an hour," Gracia said and left.

Patricia looked down at Elysia.

"I guess it's just you and me for a while now, Elysia. What do you want to do?"

"I... I want to draw with my chalks. On the asphalt." Elysia smiled an absolutely adorable, irresistible smile.

"Then we'll go out and draw. Go and get the chalks."

"Yay!" Elysia ran upstairs to get the chalks. Patricia tied her shoes. She assumed that she'd have to tie Elysia's shoes too. And, running down the stairs, Elysia came carrying a box with chalks in six or seven different colors.

"Come now, Patricia!" Elysia said and started to put her shoes on.

"No, Elysia! You're putting them on the wrong foot!"

Ten minutes, a zipper and four shoe re-ties later, Patricia and Elysia got out on the asphalt.

"Look, Patricia! Can you see what this is?" Elysia pointed at one of her paintings, the pink one.

"Erm..." Patricia tilted her head to the left. "That is..." She tilted her head the other way. "...clearly..."

'_What is it? What is it?!_' "...a ... horse!" she said, saying the first animal that she had in her head.

"No, Patricia. That's a dog, see?"

"O-of course! I was just kidding! Of course it's a dog!"

'_I don't see anything dog-like on the PINK painting...._' she thought, sighed, and drew a sun with the yellow chalk. "Can you see what this is?"

"It's the sun!" And so it went on for about forty-five minutes, until Gracia came home. Gracia were carrying two bags full of food, and they seemed heavy.

"Mommy!"

"Let me take one," Patricia offered and took one of the bags before Gracia answered.

"Thank you." The two women started to put the groceries in their proper places.

"I'll make some lunch," Gracia said when they were done. "Could you help me? It would be very kind of you."

"Of course Mrs. Gracia!" Patricia started to chop vegetables while Gracia prepared a couple of sandwiches.

"Come now, baby!" Gracia called for her daughter.

"Coming Mommy!" Elysia came running from the backyard and sat down by the table. Gracia had set the table with ham, cheese, bread and all kinds of vegetables. Patricia realized how hungry she was, and took a sandwich with a thankful glance at Gracia. She really was one of the kindest people on Earth. And her husband wasn't too bad either. The Hughes couple must be the most giving people Patricia had ever met. Giving her a place to stay without any question, letting her eat at their table without knowing where she's from... Patricia smiled a little. She bit her sandwich and thanked God or whatever higher nature had brought her here.

When the trio was finished with the meal, Patricia decided to explore the house a little. She didn't want to go to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes bedroom – that was too private – so she didn't go upstairs. She went into the room behind the stairs, the living room, it seemed. On the wall a guitar hung. Patricia's eyes grew wide as she got closer. Was it really...?

She took it down from the wall and strummed a chord. It was a bit off-tune, so she tuned it. It was hard since she wasn't used to tune without anything to help her, but it went fairly good. Better than she had hoped, anyway.

When the guitar was somewhat tuned, she played a simple version of a song she couldn't recall the name of.

'_Amazing... muscle memory much?_' She didn't remember ever playing the guitar, but she somehow knew she could, and obviously she knew how to. She sat there for a very long time strumming chord after chord, tone after tone. She was half through an imitation of one of the songs the man on the station had played, when the front door closed. She didn't pay too much attention to it, until she was finished with the song and she suddenly had an unexpected audience. Maes Hughes had come home.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched without asking first!" She almost yelled her apology to him.

"It's okay, really. It was my father-in-law's, and it hasn't been played on for at least four years. It's nice to hear some music in the house again." Maes told her. "By the way, Gracia says it's dinner."

"Dinner?" Patricia was dumbstruck. "Already? I mean, I just ate lunch..."

"But my beautiful wife has made the pie the always does! You've got to try it!" Maes grabbed her elbow and dragged her to the table in the other room.

'_Okay, I get it_,' Patricia thought. '_He loves his wife and kid. But does he have to behave like this every time anyone mentions them_?'

"It smells wonderful, Mrs. Gracia."

"Oh, by the way," Maes said with his mouth full of food, "I spoke to my boss today, and he says that I can let you have a job."

"That's great!" Patricia exclaimed. "When can I begin?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yep, tomorrow, if that's okay with you."

"Yes, I mean yes, of course, Mr. Hughes, I'll... start tomorrow."

"Okay. Brilliant. I'll wake you up tomorrow morning." Maes ended the conversation, and during the rest of the meal Gracia, Patricia and Maes sat listening and halfheartedly replied to her babble.

After dinner, Patricia went back to the living room and played a little more guitar, since she was now allowed to. Her small audience consisted of Elysia and her toy train. Well, that was until bedtime for Elysia. After that, she sat playing music for herself only. At nine o'clock she hung the guitar back on the wall and went to bed.

---

Sorry everybody, no song of the day today :(


	7. Working Nine to Five

Fullmetal Alchemist fan fiction

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter seven: Working Nine to Five

"Patricia? Patricia, you need to get up." The voice of Maes Hughes woke the sleeping teen.

"Hm?"

"Patricia?"

"What?"

"You need to get up now. We're going to the tailor before we go to work." Work? Oh, yeah, she'd gotten a job. Right.

"Okay, I'll get up." Patricia sounded awake and happy, but she was lying down with her face buried in a pillow.

Wait... had Maes said 'work'? Work! Patricia's brain connected to her body as the word sank in. Work. She'd begin to work today!

"Oh my..." she whispered. She didn't know what to wear. But it was the military, right? She'd four sure get one of those green uniforms they had at home. But, she was a girl, and Maes had told her that it was a desk job, so she would probably get a skirt. And if she wore a skirt, how would she be able to hide her automail leg?

'_Shit, shit, shit, shit_'. She wasn't ready to let the world know that she was nothing but a little lonely girl without a left leg yet. '_Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful._'

"If you ever want it to be hidden," Sean had said to her when she was still in Rush Valley. He had talked about a pair of socks... Patricia searched in her bag for a pair of socks. When she found them, she held them up in the air, doubting that it would hide anything.

But, willing to try anything, she put it on, and was amazed by what she saw. It looked like she had two legs in flesh and bone. The left one was a little bit tanner than the right, but it was so small difference so no one would notice.

She walked a little back and forward to see how much the sock could take before falling off, but it hanged on. Realizing she didn't have much time left to dress before Maes came up again she put on some clothes and went down to eat something.

The breakfast was over faster than expected, and Patricia and Maes went away from the house at 8 o'clock. After about fifteen minutes of walking they got to a small shop. They went in, and heard a man shout a 'I'm coming' to them.

After a little while a man in his early fifties came out from a small room in the back of the shop.

"Hello, Mr. Hughes," he said. "New girl again, eh?"

"Hello, Mr. Summers. Yes, and she'll need a uniform too," Maes answered the man.

"Hello, miss...?"

"Patricia Taylor."

"Miss Taylor. Ha-ha, that's too funny. I'm a tailor, and you're Miss Taylor! However, I'll sew you a uniform in less time than you can say the longest word in Amestris. Just come here and I'll measure you." Patricia stepped over to where Mr. Summers was standing. Mr. Summers took a measuring tape from the desk beside him and started to measure until Patricia was sure he'd measured every square inch of her body twice.

"There you go."

"Okay," Mr. Hughes said. "I'll be back in a week, and I expect it to be done by then."

"Okay, okay. Let's say a week. It'll be ready."

"Excellent. Goodbye, Mr. Summers."

"Goodbye, Mr. Hughes, Miss Taylor."

The man and the girl went out of Mr. Summers's shop and continued their walk to the Military Headquarters. Patricia thought it was _very_ far to walk, and as far as she knew they could be walking in circles through the whole city, but she didn't complain, no, she wanted to show Maes that she wasn't a whiner.

So they walked and walked and walked forever without saying a word. But after all the walking she saw it; the huge building wherefrom the military ruled the country.

Patricia stopped and just stared at the building. Sure, she was used to skyscrapers from her time in Paris, but she hadn't seen any of those in a couple of months, so this was something extraordinary.

"Yeah, it's pretty big, isn't it?" Maes said. "It's where I work every day. You'll get used to it after a couple of weeks."

"I will have trouble finding the toilets," Patricia whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"However, we need to get going. I'll take you to the closets where we have some spare uniforms for times like this. C'mon."

Patricia hurried after Maes as he walked into the building. They went down several miles if corridors, and after a million passed doors Maes seemed to have found a door with a sign that said 'closet'.

"Here it is. Now, let's see... which size do you want?"

"Erm... small I think."

"Here we have a... Too big... Too small... Ah, here we got one! Small." Maes handed Patricia the blue uniform.

"Blue? Isn't the military supposed to have green clothes?"

"Green? What planet are you from? The moon?" Maes laughed. Patricia laughed a little too, but only half-hearted. _Wasn't_ it supposed to be green?

"You'll need shoes too. Which size?"

"Seven, maybe."

"Hah! Found them! Now, come here. We'll go to the dressing rooms so you can change from _that_," Maes said with a passing glance at Patricia's jeans and shirt.

They one again went down mile after mile of corridor to a door with a tiny painting of a pink woman.

"I'm not allowed to follow you in there, but I think you'll manage to dress yourself. Just call if you've gotten the wrong size or something, and I'll get a new one."

"O-okay," Patricia said and went into the room. There was only one other woman in there, and she sat on one of the three benches tying her shoes.

Patricia sat down on the bench furthest from the other woman and changed into the uniform. It was a skirt as she had predicted, so she was thankful that she'd thought of the sock, and a jacket that looked like no other jacket she'd seen.

Then it was time for the shoes. They were varnished black with inch tall heels. A killer.

She put her clothes in a nice pile and went out to Maes.

"They fit perfect, I see. Excellent. Now, we'll go to my office and wait for Scieszka."

And then it began over again, the walk through endless corridors. Let's just say that she was dead tired of long maze-like corridors. But, that got to an end, eventually, and they arrived to a small office, but there was no sign of this 'Scieszka' person.

"She's always late on Wednesdays. No exceptions." Maes said. "You can just sit here and wait for her, while I go and check on some things, okay?"

Patricia nodded, and thankfully sat down on a chair as soon as Maes left the room. Those shoes and walking didn't match well. She sat there massaging her poor feet for maybe half an hour, and the started to wonder how late Scieszka used to be.

The clock ticked its way to half past nine, when a girl busted through the door almost screaming "I'm sorry I'm late, I'm sorry I'm late!"

The girl stopped in the middle of the sentence when she saw that no one was there, but a girl she'd never seen before.

"Who are you?" she exclaimed.

"Erm... I'm Patricia Taylor; I'm beginning to work here today."

"Oh, I see. I'm Scieszka. I've been working a here a while now, and I... Now I remember!" Scieszka held a finger up in the air as she said "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes told me that a new girl would come." She lowered the finger. "Hm... let's see... I guess you'll be following me around. We'll begin to..." She picked up a list from the desk. "... We'll begin to get some books for the Lieutenant Colonel. Come here," she said and walked out of the office without even checking that Patricia had understood what she was saying.

'_Well, okay, now I've met a man who's so giving he's barely even making enough money to eat, a man who's so crazy he's walking around in a suit of armor, a guy who wears his nice, blonde hair in a braid, my murderer, a man completely obsessed with his wife and kid, and a lunatic. Wonderful, isn't it?_' Patricia sighed and went after the girl named Scieszka, who she now unofficially had nicknamed the Lunatic.

"Are you coming?" Scieszka shouted to her.

"Yeah, yeah." Patricia didn't know how to answer that. She just followed her, half running, half walking the whole time.

"Where are we going?" Patricia asked.

"To the library! Oh, you've never been there before, have you? Okay, let's slow down, so you might remember!"

'_I don't think I'd remember if we were snails...._' she thought.

"You know, the Lieutenant Colonel use to say that he'll be back soon, but he won't show up until lunch anyways. Oh! We're already here!"

And before them raised a building almost as big as the Military Headquarters. Patricia dropped her jaw and just stared. How could the state of this godforsaken country afford to have two enormous buildings like these in one city? This was crazy.

"Well, it's pretty big, isn't it?" Scieszka said using the very same words as Maes had earlier. "Come, we gotta hurry. Soon, every assistant and secretary will come here to fetch books, and you won't want to e here by then. It gets _crowded_. Believe me, I've worked here."

"O-okay..." Patricia still couldn't think of how much money that had been out into the both buildings. And now, this one was filled to the roof with books, too. And how much money didn't that cost every single year, for paychecks and such things? Geez...

When they got in through the huge, massive oak doors Patricia was dumbstruck once again. This was way more books than she'd expected. The shelves was so narrow that a man barely could pass them without tip them over.

"Whoa..."

"It's a lot of books, isn't it? And I've read almost all of them!" Scieszka smiled wide.

"All of these...?" Patricia couldn't believe it. How could a sane person read all of these? Oh, right, Scieszka wasn't perfectly sane. Well, she was one to talk; Patricia wasn't too sane, either.

"This way," Scieszka said and went left, and then right, left and right again.

"How come you don't get lost?" Patricia asked, panting.

"Well, I worked here before the Lieutenant Colonel hired me."

"Oh, well, I see."

"Here, take this," Scieszka said and gave Patricia a book. It was big, brown, heavy and smelled bad. She held it on both her arms, just waiting for another one.

"Take this, too... And this... And this..." Scieszka put several books on the one she'd handed Patricia earlier. In the end, Patricia carried eight books, and Scieszka none.

"Well, I think that's all we need. But, oh, dear! Wait..." she said and took four of the books.

"Thank you, Scieszka."

"Well, I couldn't let you carry all of those, and carry none myself, now could I?" Scieszka laughed a little.

'_And here I am in this fucking other world befriending a lunatic. Wonderful_.' The girls went back to the Military Headquarters, and put the books on Maes's desk.

"Now what?" Patricia asked.

"Well, the Lieutenant Colonel's daughter, Elysia had a birthday party the other day, and now we're supposed to write them all thank-you-letters. By hand."

"Well, that's not a big deal. How many are we gonna write?"

"Like, sixty, I think..."

"Sixty!? How can a kid have so much friends!?"

---

Song of the day: Working Nine to Five – Dolly Parton


	8. Nice Fucking Disguise, So Hollow

Hello people! Right now, I'm really mad at my Internet. It stopped working just like that *snaps fingers*, and I coudn't update! Awful! Anyways, here you go. Another chapter of Dying Not to Hurt You.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter eight: Nice Fucking Disguise, So Hollow

"_Dear Mr./Mrs./Miss XXXX. _

_We really appreciate that you could come to Elysia Hughes's birthday party. We all hope you can come next year too. We had really fun and we appreciated the gift you got for Elysia. _

_Sincerely,_

_Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, Gracia Hughes and Elysia Hughes."_

Imagine writing that thirty-three times with a nib. Wonderful, eh? That was what Patricia and Scieszka was doing for a very long time. And Patricia had to rewrite almost all of them, since her handwriting wasn't the best, and she was expected to write it in cursive, which she pretty much sucked at.

Well, to her heart's great relief Scieszka didn't write much better. She even attempted to write "_Mrs. Peter Daniels_".

And then it was that, to write addresses to everybody.

"_Mr./Mrs./Miss XXX, X XXX Street, XXX City, XXX XXX"_

Funny, eh? Nope. Not the least. Just boring. After that, Patricia was convinced that people was able to die from boredom, and aching fingers.

At five o'clock, when they finally were allowed to go home, the both girls were happier than ever.

"I never thought that I would be happy to go from work." Scieszka said.

"Me neither," Patricia responded. The afternoon had been dead boring; they were just writing thank-you-letters. The only action the both girls had was when Patricia needed to go to the bathroom.

And, at exactly five o'clock, Maes had dismissed them. He had said that he'd 'only do one more thing'. And, we all know what that means. Yes. It was the unavoidable 'just one more thing'.

And therefore Patricia was locked up in the office for another half an hour.

Funny? Again, no.

Well, eventually they got home to Gracia and her amazing cooking-skills. They ate, and after that Patricia was so exhausted that she went straight to bed. She fell asleep without even bothering to undress.

-----

A week later, October 24

She'd gone to work now for a week, and she began to get used to it. Patricia and Maes had picked up Patricia's uniform at the tailor's, so now was the first day in her own uniform.

She'd gotten into the routines, at the morning Patricia and Scieszka would get some books from the library, and put some books back to the library. After lunch, they'd do what Maes ordered them to do, or what he'd left in the note on his desk. For the most of the time, Maes would be away solving a case or something, and when he got back, he'd do some paperwork, squeal over his wife and daughter or just sit around doing nothing. The last mentioned was the worst for Scieszka and Patricia. Then he'd watch their every move as a hawk, and not letting them out of his sight until they got out of the office.

Now, at the middle of the day, a little before lunch actually, Patricia saw a face she'd never thought she'd ever see again. It was Alphonse!

"Hi Alphonse!" she shouted to him. Alphonse turned around to see who it was, saw her, and waved back as answer.

"Who are...?" Patricia saw a small test of hair sticking straight up in the air. The person under it talked.

"Edward?" Patricia shouted. "Is that you?"

The blonde hair test came running towards her, and Alphonse followed it.

"Hello Patricia!" Alphonse said when he and Edward had arrived to the spot where Patricia was standing.

"Trisha. You two can call me Trisha," Patricia said, a little annoyed that the boys used her whole name.

"What are you doing here?" Edward asked and seemed unbothered by the order.

"Actually, I'm working here," Patricia answered.

"Nice," Alphonse said. "Brother works here too – as a state alchemist - but we're travelling around gathering information for the military."

"Cool. I just have a desk job as 'the Lieutenant Colonel's... second assistant', I think." Patricia sighed. She'd never be able to remember that.

"Then Mr. Hughes gave you a job, too?" Edward asked.

'_Well, he's friendlier today... at least_' Patricia thought. Out loud, she said: "Yeah. Mr. - I mean the Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. Gracia have been really nice to me."

"They're nice to everyone," Edward said and seemed thoughtful for a moment. "It must be in their nature."

"But, how come? I mean, I'm a girl who doesn't even know..." She almost said, but stopped in the middle. "... who doesn't even have a place to stay," she said instead, "and they just took me in like that. I'm gonna have to pay them back sometime."

"Well, it was really nice meeting you again, but Colonel Bastard is waiting for me." Edward said. "See you around."

"Yeah, bye. And thank you for giving me this, Edward."

Edward just smiled and started to walk away, his red cape floating behind him. Well, he was awfully nice today. What had happened to him and his mean self?

"Patricia? Patricia!" Scieszka shouted.

"I'm here!" Patricia shouted back to her, still in deep thought.

"Oh, there you are. I thought I'd lost you. We need to get these books to the library, like, as soon as possible."

"Yeah, we better hurry."

---

Song of the day: Pretty Handsome Awkward – The Used


	9. And There's a Smile on Everyone

Hello people! I'm just gonna say that I really appreciate all the reviews on this story. They're all amazing, and of course those who wrote them are even better.  
However, I know that this and the previous chapter are very short, but the next will be about as long as the others. Very sorry!  
Anyways, on with the story.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter nine: And There's a Smile on Everyone

Dear diary,

Two months ago, on November 1st, I asked Mrs. Gracia for help. That must've been the hardest thing I've ever done, except handling my own death, because I asked her to help me find an apartment.

Well, asking was the hardest, not getting the answer. I remember that I mumbled and stuttered and tripping on mu own tongue, and when I had spit my question out, Mrs. Gracia just answered: "Of course, dear". And then, I just _had_ to excuse myself and apologize and a lot of other stuff, but, no, Mrs. Gracia just said: "It's OK, sweetie. We knew that this day was coming".

And, it turned out that exactly a month after I spoke to Mrs. Gracia I had lived in my own apartment for a whole week. I realized that day that it was December 1st, and I got all crazy. Did they celebrate Christmas in this godforsaken city, here in "Amestris"?

I started to panic and got to the closest store. If it was December 1st, and if they celebrated Christmas, that would mean that the stores would start decorating, or at least start to sell decorations.

I got into a small shop called "Mary-Ann's", and – to my heart's great relief – I had walked straight into a winter wonderland.

"Hello, dear, can I help you?" a strawberry blonde woman said when I came in.

"Well," was my genius answer. "I... just wanted to buy something for Christmas."

I still don't know why I said that, 'cause when I had, the woman started to run around and ask me what I wanted, and to who I wanted to give the present.

I remember that I got all "WHAT?!?!?!" I hadn't even told her that I wanted a gift. But, to please the woman, I told her that it was for 'someone very special'.

And, guess what, she thought that my imaginary special someone was a boyfriend and that it was for him.

'_Well, however,_' I thought. '_I can always give it to Edward or Alphonse later._'

And in the end I got six gifts, for Edward, Alphonse, Mrs. Gracia, Mr. Hughes, Elysia and Scieszka. I didn't even know if Edward and Alphonse would bee in Central on Christmas, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it? I at least got them something!

After that day, I didn't so too much. I worked until the 23rd, and after that I was free. Or, at least free over Christmas and New Year.

It was absolutely boring, except the fact that every single candle and Christmas tree seemed to trigger a new memory. Approximately ten Christmases and Decembers came back to me. Wonderful, isn't it? No, not really. It made me really depressed. Imagine it, diary, that you'd lose your memory and then in the happiest of all months you'd have to endure ten more Decembers that you didn't even remember. And, after that, you'd get reminded of your death and losing your memory almost every single day. Would you like it?

Didn't think so.

And that led me to believing that this Christmas would be the worst ever.

But, oh, how wrong I was. At Christmas's Eve, Mr. Hughes dropped by and told me that I would spend Christmas with him, his family and a couple of friends.

So, I got to that party dressed in just a red shirt and a black skirt. Oh, amazing, to see me in a skirt. I usually wear pants.

When I put the skirt on I remembered that me mother always used to force me into a skirt once a year, at Christmas.

Later, after the year me mother died (damn, it's still so hard to say or even write the word) I always wore a skirt at Christmas of my own free will, to honor her memory or something, I think.

However, I got to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes's, and to mu great surprise, the friends that Mr. Hughes had talked about was Edward and Alphonse!

That Christmas was the most... I can't even find a word for that evening. I had so much fun. We ate a splendid dinner made by the head chef herself, Mrs. Gracia. Everyone got gifts, and I got a notepad and a pen from Edward and Alphonse. Inside the wrapping there was a note that said "To help you remember". Oh my... I was happy. I figured that the note had to be from Edward, the only one I have told about my amnesia.

I have it beside me while I'm trying to remember everything. In my beautiful gilt notepad I'm writing every single thing that I remember from my past life, if I can say "past life" about it. Until now, I've only remembered my mother's funeral, my own funeral, my mother and father looking for me when I was really little, a friend of mine and my first day at school. And, oh yeah, then there's ten Decembers and the bloody murder at myself. Wonderful, isn't it?

Well, I write it down since I'm still hoping that one day I'll finally recall everything. At the same time, that's the day I fear the most. What if I forget everything that's happened here if I remember everything else?

However, now there's no time for those thoughts. Now it's New Year's Eve, and I'm alone. Funny, you'd think, but no. I'm having my own little countdown to midnight, and I've even bought myself a small alcoholic cider that I'll drink at midnight.

Yeah, its 23:16 o'clock, and I'm not around celebrating New Year with a bunch of friends or my family.

Now, that's strange. Either I'm hallucinating from loneliness, or someone's knocking at my door.

There it is again... I better go answer that, just to see if my brain's messing with my head or if someone actually wants me something.

---

Song of the day: What's This? – Nightmare before Christmas

Author's note: Now Mom has forced me to let my teacher read it, so now he reads it too. Everyone, say hi to Harald. And be nice to him. He's a good person, deep inside. I promise.


	10. You're Not the Only One

Hi everybody. I won't apologize for being late this time, 'cause it's Sis fault. And that's that.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter ten: You're Not the Only One

It began as a usual day at work. Scieszka and Patricia carried a couple of books to the library, wrote a couple of letters for Maes and so on. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

That was until after lunch. At exactly 1:14 p.m. a brown-haired soldier Patricia never had seen before came rushing in to Maes's office.

"Lieutenant Colonel! Scar has been spotted!" the soldier exclaimed.

Patricia saw that both Scieszka's and Maes's eyes widened and that all color in their faces disappeared at the word 'scar'. 'Scar', what was so special about that, really? Patricia had scars all over her body, so what was that to be terrified at?

"You girls stay here," Maes shouted to his assistants. "And don't move an inch!"

Patricia and Scieszka nodded quickly. Whatever it was that everyone was so afraid of, it sure seemed dangerous. Patricia had never seen Maes like this.

"Private Wyatt!" Maes yelled the soldier's name in his face.

"Yes sir!"

"Where did they see him!?" Maes yelled as the two men ran out through the door.

The door slammed shut, and the left-behinds sat glancing at each other, not daring to move at all.

"What do we do now?" Patricia whispered.

"I-I don't know," Scieszka answered just as quiet as Patricia.

"What is 'scar'?"Patricia asked whispering.

"What did you say?"

"I said, what is 'scar'?" Patricia whispered a little louder.

"Why are we whispering?"

"I don't know."

"So," Scieszka said almost a bit too loud, "What did you say?"

"I asked what 'scar' is."

"You don't know who Scar is?" Scieszka screamed. Patricia shook her head violently. "Okay, Scar is a maniac who kills state alchemists. I've hears that he's got a creepy scar right over his face like this:" Scieszka held up her hands with the index fingers crossed in front of her forehead. "Really creepy. That's why he's called Scar."

"Okay. A maniac."

Scieszka nodded.

-----

Five minutes later

"Scieszka...?" Patricia said.

"Yes?"

"The Lieutenant Colonel said that we couldn't move an inch, right?"

"Yes..."

"Do you think he'd make an exception?"

"Depends, why?"

"I-I have to go to the bathroom," Patricia whispered. "But I know that he's our superior, and that we can't move because he said that we can't and-"

"Patricia?" Scieszka interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Shoo."

"Okay!" Patricia said and rushed away.

A minute or two later she came back in again.

"Just so you know," she said," I haven't moved at all."

"O-okay, I guess."

A few hours went by, and Patricia and Scieszka talked a little about everything. Once, Scieszka asked where Patricia was from.

"I'm from Paris, a small city far, far away in the north," Patricia lied. "Very cold. No one's ever heard of Paris, except those who live there. Very, very far away from here. Now even the military has heard of it."

"Oh, I see," Scieszka said, naïvely enough not doubting Patricia's words at the least.

Then, Maes came through the door. Scieszka, who'd had her feet on the table fell down to the ground as she put on her shoes again.

"Hi, Lieutenant Colonel," Patricia said breathlessly as soon as she'd gotten her shoes on.

"Hi girls," Maes answered. He went over to his desk while telling the girls to go home.

"I'm kind of busy now with this whole Scar-thing, and there won't be any more work for you today, so I'm letting you two take the rest of the day off," he told them.

"O-okay," the brunette and the raven answered him, and simply walked out through the door since they couldn't do anything more.

The both girls went to the dressing rooms, and changed from the military uniform to their other clothes. When they walked home, there was a bit they could walk together, so they did since Maes had told them that they should be careful, since it was a serial killer on the loose.

"Patricia?" Scieszka asked while they walked. "Are you afraid of Scar?"

"I guess I should be, but I'm not, really, since I haven't seen what he does to the victims yet. And, I'm not among those who are targeted, so I'm pretty sure I'm safe. Why?"

"It's just... I'm just asking."

"You know, if you're scared of him, you can sleep at my place tonight."

"Can I really? You're sooo nice!"

"It's okay; I know that you wouldn't sleep if I didn't invite you. But you can let go of me, it's kinda hard to breathe..."

"OH! I'm sorry! I'm just so happy!"

"I can tell," Patricia said and sighed. "But we have to go and buy some more food. I barely have for myself."

"Okay, but let me pay for some of it."

"No, why should I?"

"It's just that, I can't come to your house and eat all of your food, because that would make me a lousy friend!"

"Then you should know how many lousy friends I've had. But 's okay, I can afford it."

"NO! It's not okay! I'm first assistant, and you're second, so I'm your superior! Let me pay the food!" Scieszka yelled.

"O-okay, ma'am..."

"And don't call me 'ma'am'!"

"Yes, _sir_."

"Trisha!"

And after that the both girls went home to Patricia's house laughing.

-----

The next day, Wednesday

Patricia grunted. The sun shined right down at her once sleeping face, which she didn't enjoy much. It was rather unpleasant, and she wasn't used to it either. She always used to get up before the sun had raised that high.

Now wait a second.

"Holy crap!" She realized that she was late. Really late. "Scieszka! Wake up! We're LATE!"

"What?" Scieszka said down in her pillow. "Where's the fire?"

"Rise and shine now, Scieszka!" Patricia screamed stressed out of her poor little mind. "We're late!"

"What are you...? GAAH! We're late, we're late, we're laaaaaaaate!"

"I know! Get dressed now!"

And in the end, it turned out that Patricia and Scieszka were exactly half an hour late.

And the weird thing is that Scieszka _always_, without exceptions, was exactly half an hour late at Wednesdays,

"WE'RE SORRY THAT WE'RE LATE!!!" the both girls yelled to the Lieutenant Colonel when they got to the Military Headquarters.

"It's okay," the Lieutenant Colonel said to Patricia and Scieszka. "I was just going to wait for you, and now I'll go. You have your job there." He said pointing to a piece of paper at the desk, and then he simply disappeared through the door.

"Hm," Patricia said.

"Yeah, I feel exactly the same," Scieszka said. "But we better do those jobs, so can we maybe go home early today!"

"Yes! Let's do them!!!"

"Hm, extremely excited, now, are we?"

"YES!"

-----

After lunch, there was an incoming call to the office.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes's office, what can I do for you?"

"Hi, Patricia!"

"Oh, hi Lieutenant Colonel."

"I'm just calling from the hospital-"

"You're not hurt, are you!?"

"No, I'm okay, but Edward's worse off."

"Edward? What has happened to him? Is he okay? What about Alphonse? Is he-"

"Patricia?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Stop rambling, please. I was just going to say that you and Scieszka can come to the hospital around four p.m. if you want to. I'll be waiting for you outside the entrance."

"Okay. We'll be there."

"There's just one more thing. Erm... how should I put it? You shouldn't go the way by the bookstore."

"Why?"

"Well, there's this big hole in the street, and there'll be a lot of military people there."

"Okay. Not the way by the bookstore."

"That's correct. Goodbye, Patricia."

"Goodbye, sir." With that Patricia hung up.

"What did he say?" Scieszka asked. It seemed like she had listened to the whole conversation. "What happened to Edward?"

"He just said that Edward was at the hospital, and that we could come and visit him today at four p.m. ..."

"He said what?!?"

"That Edward and Alphonse were at the hospital! Oh my god! Edward and Alphonse are at the hospital!"

"Well, a little late, are we?" Scieszka said ironically.

"No! Let's get that job done, so can we go to the hospital later!"

"YES!"

-----

The hours to four p.m. were the longest hours Patricia had ever experienced. She looked at the watch at least once a minute, but the clock never seemed to move at all. Nothing, not even writing endless letters, fetching books, answering phone calls or calling people she never had met before could take her mind of Edward and his brother.

'_What could've happened to them?_' she often wondered.

When they were done with the whole list, Scieszka came with the ultimate idea: they would get the boys some flowers.

"What kind of flower?" Patricia asked Scieszka.

"I don't know, actually. We cannot buy them roses, and that's about every single flower I know."

"We'll ask the salesman, I guess."

"Yeah, that sounds great."

"But, seriously, you only know what rose is? Not even, like, sunflower?"

"What's that? Is it... yellow or something?"

"Yes! But let's hurry, the Lieutenant Colonel's expecting us there at four p.m. sharp."

"Okay. The way by the bookstore, the flower shop is there and that's the shortest way."

"That sounds great." '_Didn't he say something about the way by the bookstore? However, Scieszka says it's the shortest way, and I guess it can't hurt being a little early._'

The both girls had walked for about fifteen minutes happily talking about anything, when they heard a voice that said: "You two girls can't be here."

Patricia and Scieszka looked up at the blonde military officer. "This is a crime scene, forbidden area. You'll have to go another way."

"Right, this was where the Lieutenant Colonel told us that we _couldn't_ go." Patricia whispered to herself.

"Trisha!" Scieszka yelled. "What is this?!"

"Erm... a detour?" Patricia said hesitantly.

"I can see that! We're gonna be late!"

"I know! Let's hurry!"

"We still need to buy flowers," Scieszka shouted to Patricia while they ran past several blocks.

"I know! We're gonna be late!"

"Yes, and that's because of your lack of memory."

"Scieszka!"

And with that the both girls got into the flower shop five minutes earlier than they'd expected.

"Hello girls, how can I help you?" an old woman said to them.

"Erm..." they started. "Hospital flowers," Patricia continued. "To a boy."

"Okay, hospital flowers to a boy...?" The woman looked around in the shop. "I think that these blue flowers would fit in,. Yes, definitely." She pointed to a couple of flowers that were – as she'd said – light blue.

"O-okay! That's wonderful! We'll take three, I think," Scieszka said.

"How much?" Patricia asked.

"Let's see, three you said? That'll be... no, you can have them for free," the woman said with a smile. "I mean, you're going to a hospital, am I correct? I've heard that the food there is pretty expensive, yes, disgusting but expensive, so at least you'll have free flowers! I remember once when my fiancé was at the hospital. He was just going to remove his tonsils, not a too big operation, but I had to be there nevertheless, since-"

"Thank you, Mrs." Scieszka quickly interrupted. "But we have to go now. Goodbye!"

"Oh, really now? Goodbye youngsters."

"Bye!" the girls yelled to the woman as they ran out of the small store.

After about ten minutes of running they finally got to Central City Hospital.

"Hi girls," a surprised Maes said to them when Scieszka and Patricia came panting towards him. "You're early."

"No... we're... not," Patricia stated while panting violently. "It's... already... ten past... four."

"Well, when we were talking before I said 'about four', not 'four p.m. sharp'!"

"Whoopsie! I guess... I heard... wrong!"

"Trisha...! God... if I... weren't this... tired... you'd be... dead by now!"

"Whoo... Let's not threaten each other's life now, Scieszka. C'mon, we'll go to visit Ed now, if you're done." Maes said laughing a bit.

Patricia and Scieszka nodded and the trio went through the hospital door to the reception.

"Hello," Maes said to the receptionist. "My name's Maes Hughes and this is Patricia and Scieszka. We would like to know in which room Edward Elric is."

"Edward Elric?" the receptionist said while looking through a pile of paper. "He's in room C-69, in the corridor to the left," she said pointing to said corridor as she spoke.

"Okay, thank you. Come here, girls!" And with that he went to the left corridor without even waiting for the girls to react.

---

Song of the day: Pain – Three Days Grace


	11. Let Your Body Get the Tolerance

**IMPORTANT: **Okay, A/N: I'll take a break for a while, I'll upload next one January 11. Just so you all know.  
But I promise that chapter 12 is a great chapter, well worth waiting for.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter eleven: Let Your Body Get the Tolerance

Stairs. Oh, how wonderful isn't that invention? Not at all, really. At least not after they invented the elevator. Nowadays, stairs are just too much.

But nevertheless, Patricia and company went up seven stairs only to get to a certain Mr. Edward Elric's hospital room.

Sometimes Patricia wondered if he was worth it.

"And here we are, girls," a dashing Lieutenant Colonel said to the both assistants.

Scieszka, the hopeless bookworm, was in an even worse condition than Patricia, and that was not easy to be.

Maes opened the door to room C-69 and stepped in, with his assistants close after him.

"Oh, hi Hughes!" Edward said with a wide grin as they came in.

Patricia's eyes widened at the sight of Edward. His head was wrapped in bandage and one of his arms lied in some sort of triangular bandage, and he had wounds and sores all over him. In a corner Alphonse sat, half his body covered with cloth. Underneath it one could see that a big piece of the armor was gone.

"What the fuck did you do?" Patricia whispered. Edward's eyebrows rose giving a surprised look to his face, and then he dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Nah, not much. A small encounter with Scar, that's all."

"A small encounter with Scar?" Patricia sat down on one of the two chairs in the room and let her hand wander up to her hairline, the hand covering the most of her face. She shook her head and mumbled something that maybe could be heard as 'boys'.

"A small encounter with Scar and it turns out like _this_?" She laughed, but it was a dry, cold laugh. "God, he can't be too good news around here."

A small chuckle escaped Edward's lips. "No, not really good news."

"However, now that you're here, girls, I think I have to go," Maes said with a broad smile. "I still have some paperwork to do, and I bet Gracia's home cooking for me! Goodbye, kids!"

"Goodbye, Mr. Hughes," everyone said with one mouth.

"How come you got into a 'small encounter with Scar' then?" Patricia asked when the Lieutenant Colonel had left.

"Well... that's a long story," Alphonse said from beside her.

"I have plenty of time right now," she said. "If you don't mind," she added.

The room sank into a thoughtful silence, until Edward broke it by saying: "Hey, Al! I just got reaaally hungry! Can you go and buy me a real meal at the shop, instead of that crappy food they've got at this place?"

And Alphonse, who got the hint at once, said quickly: "Of course, brother!" He started to get up from his spot at the floor, when Edward made a small, extremely discrete cough and jerked his head at Scieszka, who at the moment was facing Alphonse.

"Come here, Scieszka!" Alphonse said getting his brother's hint once again. Poor Scieszka got dragged out of the room by the giant armor before she had a chance to object.

Room C-69 went absolutely quiet again.

"Have you... remembered anything else?" Edward said after about two minutes.

Patricia smiled a bit. This happened every time they were alone. Since she practically threw her life's story at him that day at the train station, Patricia had seen him as her personal therapist. He asked her now and then about her amnesia, and she told him what she'd remembered. Easy and effective.

"Nah, nothing special. Just once, the other day when I went shopping. On the way there, I saw a tiny bakery where they baked baguettes. Well, then I saw myself and an uncle baking baguettes. Not much, really."

"You, baking baguettes?" Edward laughed a little. "You look like that kind of person that can't even boil eggs without ruining them!"

"Stop that!" Patricia laughed too. "I'm actually pretty good at cooking!"

"Hah, I believe that when I see it!"

After the laughs had ended, it was quiet again.

'_God, I hate awkward silences,_' Patricia thought while looking at the oh-so-interesting floor.

"So...?" she said.

"So what?" Edward asked.

"So as in 'why did you send those two out _really_?' I'm not stupid, you know. It wasn't just to ask what I've been up to."

"...No actually, it wasn't." Then he got quiet.

"What was it for, then?" Patricia asked when Edward didn't continue.

"I thought..."

"Yes...?

"I just..."

"Oh, God! If you're not gonna say anything I can go and get you some food, too! Just spit it out already!"

"I'm gonna tell you."

"What?" Patricia didn't believe her ears. Was he really going to tell her what was going on...?

Edward sighed and cleared his throat, before he started to tell her the entire story.

"I... When we were little, Al and I had a mom too. Her name was Trisha Elric and she was the most wonderful mother a kid can have. She was kind and nice in any way you can think of.

"Our father was gone. He'd run away not even two years after Al was born, so I don't have too many memories of him, but I still hate him, since he left Mom. I remember that she was sad almost out of her mind, but she didn't show it to us. She wanted to be strong. But, she often used to stare out in the distance, almost like she expected him to come home.

"That never happened. When I was eleven, I think, Al and I had gone over to Winry's to get some vegetables and such. When we got home, we found her lying on the floor. She didn't move, barely breathed and sweated. I was terrified. Was she dead?

"We ran back to Winry's to get help, and a doctor came and told us that she'd had this disease for a very long time not, and had hid it from us. Probably she didn't want us to worry.

"But I knew that she was going to die. I didn't want to believe it, but I know that it was true. I think she knew it too."

Edward told her his life's story. Patricia just sat and listened to him, not daring to say a word. It was so terrible. He'd gone through more than most adults, and he was sixteen years old. Not much more than a kid, in her culture.

When story time was over, Edward stubbornly kept looking at his own feet, and Patricia didn't say anything. What could she possibly say after a story like that? 'Poor you'?

Soon, Alphonse and Scieszka came back. Scieszka seemed kind of confused, since Edward and Patricia just sat there looking everywhere but at the other one.

"Oh, you're back!" Edward said blithesomely. "Now I'm hungrier than ever!"

"I think we should go home now, Scieszka," Patricia said. She turned to the boys and continued: "You know, you could come over to my place for dinner sometime. Just call first, so I know when you come."

"O-of course we will come and eat at your place!" Alphonse said.

"Okay, but we have to go now. Goodbye, boys!" Patricia smiled.

"Goodbye!" the boys said at the same time.

Patricia waved and got out of the room.

---

Song of the day: I Don't Care – Fall Out Boy


	12. I Dare You to Say They Taste the Same

Hello people! Another long awaited chapter of Dying Not to Hurt You. I've been writing my ass off this week. Be happy.  
However, let's get on with the chapter.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twelve: I Dare You to Say They Taste the Same

The week passed on as usual. Scieszka and Patricia worked and fought over the smallest things ever imaginable.

On the Saturday, Edward called.

"Hi, I'm Edward Elric. Is Patricia there?" he said sounding very formal.

"Um, yes, you're talking to her," she said a little confused. Why would he call?

"Oh, okay, hi!" Now it seemed like he'd loosened up a little.

"Yes, hi." Patricia laughed a little to herself. He seemed so stupid. Hadn't he heard her voice before? "How are you?"

"I'm good, actually. But... you said that I could call about dinner some day?"

"Yes?"

"I was kind of wondering if you... if I could come over tonight...?"

"Well, why just you and not Alphonse?"

"Erm, Alphonse's going to do some research, and I thought that it would be boring for him to, you know, watch us eat."

"Yeah, of course, you're right. I didn't..."

"It's okay. But, can I come over tonight?"

"Erm, well, yes, of course you can!"

"About... five?"

"That'll be absolutely fine. I'll see you then."

"Yes, goodbye!"

"'Bye!"

When Patricia had hung up, Scieszka looked at her.

"Who was it?" she asked like she didn't care, but Patricia knew her just too well. She knew that Scieszka was curious.

"Well... no one." Patricia said a little vainglorious, just to torture the poor girl a little more.

"No, come on, who was it?!?"Scieszka whined lying down on the floor almost kissing Patricia's feet.

"Okay then!" It wasn't hard to resist Scieszka's desperate tries to get to know the secret. And besides, Patricia had never been one to keep secrets. "It was Edward. He's coming over for dinner tonight."

"Edward's coming over? Tonight?" Scieszka asked.

"Yes..." Patricia realized what that meant. "Shit..."

"We need to go grocery shopping," the girls said with one mouth.

"No," Patricia said. "You can stay here and..." She looked around in the small apartment. "...clean a bit. Can you do that?"

"Well, of course I can!" Scieszka yelled in her face. "Go and do that... thing you and I'll tidy things up. So that it looks nice. Of course. The maid Scieszka shall now go and _clean_. Like maids do."

"Scieszka, don't be a baby. Just do it, and... and I'll go and prepare dinner. But first, I'll go shopping."

"Yes!"

'_Oh my god... what should I do? I don't even know what he likes..._' Patricia thought while walking out through the door. This was ridiculous. Why had she even invited him over? The only things she knew about him was the things he'd told her at the hospital and that he knew how she'd gotten to Amestris in the first place. And she hadn't really met him since New Year's Eve, when he'd come over after she'd written in her diary. Okay, she'd met him at the hospital, but that couldn't really count, could it?

'_God..._' Patricia hurried to the grocery store thinking the whole way, and she'd come to the conclusion that he probably knew more about why she'd end up here than her. Now _that_ was ridiculous. She laughed a bit at herself for being stupid she entered the store, got the things she needed to fry some pork cutlets and potatoes, paid for the food and started to walk home.

She got through the door, and Scieszka was in the shower.

"Scieszka!"Patricia yelled, slightly panicking. "What are you doing!?" She heard a muffled noise through the bathroom door, but she wasn't really sure what it was. It could be either Scieszka replying to her, or Scieszka singing in the shower. Patricia couldn't tell which.

"Scieszka!" This time Patricia knocked on the door. The noise stopped. Apparently Scieszka had been singing.

A vague "what?" came through the door.

"What are you doing!?" Patricia yelled again. "You were supposed to be cleaning the apartment!"

Scieszka came out of the bathroom dressed in nothing but a towel.

"I know. But I had to shower. I... didn't smell too great," she said.

"Aah, Scieszka! God, how am I..." Patricia stopped. "Damn it." She sighed and went through the hall into the kitchen and put the groceries on one of the benches. "Now, can you start to clean things up? I mean, now I'm gonna prepare dinner, and then I'll help you, okay?"

Scieszka nodded and went over to their combined living room/bedroom, where she probably got dressed.

Patricia sighed too and looked at the clock at the wall, which at the time was about four p.m. She sighed over again and put the potatoes in the sink and started to chop them in small but still eatable pieces, after which she put them in a roasting pan, spiced them a little and let them stand on the bench. She was going to put them in the oven about forty-five before Edward came over. Then they'd be ready at his arrival.

She prepared the cutlets too, so she could just fry them maybe ten to fifteen minutes before Edward came.

Patricia let her breath out when she was done. She liked to cook, and she was pretty good at it too.

"Trisha!" Scieszka yelled from the bathroom.

Patricia sighed. "What?" she asked shaking her head. What was that girl thinking with?

"Could you come here? Please? But like, really fast"

Patricia went over to where Scieszka was, and found her roommate pointing out through the window.

"Is that who I think it is?" Scieszka asked.

"Who...?" Patricia looked out the window, and saw - to her great terror – a man, maybe three inches taller than her. He wore a red coat and his blonde hair was braided...

"Shit." He came. Already? Yes. That was not good. The clock was barely five o'clock, and they'd said six, right? Or was it five? Oh, God.

"Scieszka!" Patricia shouted. "Tidy this scrapheap like, _really_ fast. He'll come through the door in about a minute, maybe - if we're lucky – two. But still, really fast. I'll... fix dinner!"

"Yes!" She rushed into the small room they used to store stuff (most commonly books) and got a mop and a bucket.

Patricia herself ran into the kitchen and shoved the roasting pan into the oven and had started to fry the cutlets, when she heard the doorbell.

"Oh, fuck, he's here. Scieszka! Are you done? If you are, take the door!" she yelled.

"Yes, yes! I will!"

Patricia heard Scieszka's steps when she walked to the door, and short after the sound of a door opening. She recognized the voice that she heard as Edward's, but she couldn't hear what he was saying.

Scieszka invited him in, and suddenly he just stood there in the doorway looking at Patricia like she was either dumb or a Greek goddess. The first option was the most likely.

At least, Patricia felt pretty dumb. She just stood there like a retard or something and tried not to burn the cutlets. She felt that her cheeks started to get warm.

'_No, it's because of the heat from the oven, not the fact that he's standing there like a drop-dead hottie,_' she thought.

He was wearing the knitted scarf that she'd given to him for Christmas, and that made her smile a little bit.

"You know, it gets pretty hot in here if you're going to wear all that," she said referring to his coat, the scarf and his gloves.

Edward looked confused for a moment, winked and in the end got it. "Y-yes, of course! I'll go and..."

"Scieszka'll show you where you can put it all." Patricia giggled. Gosh, he was cute when confused!

Did she just think that?!

'_No, Edward's a friend. And that's a fact that I can't change even if I would want to._' she thought. '_And I don't_.'

"Edward?" she asked when he was back from taking his warm clothes off.

"Yes?"

"Can you set the table?"

"Yes, I can."

"Scieszka'll show you where everything is."

"Did I hear wrong or am I supposed to do everything around here?" Scieszka complained.

"Now, now. Be a nice and quiet girl and you'll get candy." Patricia giggled.

Scieszka grunted and showed Edward where the plates and such things were, and Edward, being the nice boy he seemed to be that day, set the table without making any noise at all.

And soon the only sound in the small kitchen at 54 Seaside Street was the cutlets slowly frying in the pan.

'_I don't believe it,_' Patricia thought. 'A_wkward silence. I can't take this anymore!_'

"Erm..." Patricia began.

'_Are you serious? Is that all you have to say?_'

"Well... Where is Alphonse?" Patricia said with a strained smile.

"Err... He's... at the library doing some research I think." Edward replied. "He said that I could use some rest. I've almost read every single book in that branch."

"Okay."

The room got awfully quiet.

'_End of conversation, eh?_' Patricia thought with a sigh. '_I hate this._'

"So…" Edward began. "Erm… What are you cooking?"

"Erm… I… Cutlets! And potatoes!" Patricia answered.

'_Nicely done, Trisha._ _Nice rambling._'

"Okay. Smells good. Great, actually. You obviously can cook. Really good."

"Yes, I told you." Patricia smiled. "You told me that I looked like one who 'can't even boil eggs without ruining them'."

"Hm… I did? Sorry for that one." Edward laughed a bit while apologizing. "Seems like you're good after all."

"Yes, I like that better than being a useless chef. But if you're done setting the table, we could… maybe go to the other room and... I don't know… Talk? Maybe Scieszka have something for us to drink." Patricia said.

Edward nodded.

"Yes, we… we could do that. Sounds fine. Sounds great!"

"Good! I'll just…" Patricia said pointing to the cutlets. "Put these in the oven."

Edward nodded again, looked right, looked left, shook his head and went out to the room Patricia and Scieszka used as living room.

'_Oh, God…_'

She hated dinners. Or, at least, dinners with people coming over. Especially the early people, since they get partially stuck in the kitchen since the one who invited them over is in that very room.

And since Patricia was the one who always cooked the food for her father's dinner guests… well you all see where that's going.

And even though she'd had a lot of practice she wasn't really an expert on the area "awkward situations" including the category "tense silent moments".

To tell the truth, she sucked at it. Social skills towards adults weren't really her thing. She knew how to communicate with her own kind, but the rest… No.

However, Patricia soon followed Edward into the other room, and found her roommate and her friend in the couch discussing some books. Not especially surprising at all, since Scieszka was all about books, and the first thing Edward tried to offer Patricia when he'd first met her was a book.

"Well, you two seem to have a nice little chat here by yourselves," Patricia said with a slight smile. "I'm gonna go and make salad."

"Okay," they both replied with a nod each.

Shockingly relieved, Patricia went back to the kitchen. She found some half-eaten tomatoes, a cucumber and a pineapple in the refrigerator.

'_A pineapple?_' Patricia thought. That wasn't anything that she'd bought, that's for sure. The only pineapple she'd eaten in her whole life had been packaged in a can, so she had absolutely _no_ idea how to chop it.

Back in France, she'd noticed that it used to be small tags on the pineapples which said how to slaughter one, but here there was none.

'_Damn these people. I mean, not everyone knows how to chop a fucking _pineapple_! Some of us still could use instructions._'

Hm. She decided to put the pineapple back into the refrigerator where it belonged, and started to dice the other vegetables instead. The tomatoes and the cucumber made a remarkable mix along with the remains of something that reminded of crème fraîche and a lot of salt, pepper and a weird spice mix named '10 things out of Heaven'.

A little weird, but really good.

The timer she had set for the potatoes ringed and Patricia took the pan and the cutlets out of the oven and set them on the table.

"Dinner's ready!" she called to the others, and they came as fast as the lightning into the kitchen and sat down on a chair each.

The rest of the dinner went by less painful than the prelude. The trio talked a lot, and that was a good sign – maybe Patricia and Edward had a chance to form a relationship that wasn't built on awkwardness.

At 10 p.m. Edward excused himself, said goodbye to Scieszka and Patricia and left. Shortly after that, Patricia cleaned up after the dinner while Scieszka went to bed.

When she'd tidied the whole apartment Patricia sat down in her couch and thought about reading for a bit but soon changed her mind. She wasn't in her reading-mood. She really wasn't in the mood to do anything; she was in a restless mode where she wanted to do everything but didn't know what she would do.

That mode always used to tell her that something was about to happen. She never knew what, but it was always important.

That always freaked her out a bit, and now she wouldn't be able to sleep. She just lied down on the couch and hoped that she'd fall asleep sometime soon.

---

Song of the day: I Don't Care – Fall Out Boy


	13. She Walked Through Bullets and Haze

Hi people! I'm terribly sorry that I got out this chapter WAY late. Just wanted to tell you that.

Fullmetal Alchemist fan fiction

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter thirteen: She Walked Through Bullets and Haze

"And, hey, by the way, girls! You can leave earlier today," Maes said before he rushed out through the door.

He'd left a list of work for Patricia and Scieszka as always, but this Friday it was unusually short. They were only supposed to write a couple of letters, returning a pile of books and write a report.

"Do you think the same as I do?" Scieszka asked.

"Yes, if you're thinking that we have almost nothing to do today," Patricia answered.

"Well… I thought so too after you said it. I mean, erm, I actually thought that one of us can do all the work and the other can go home and prepare food," Scieszka said while rubbing the back of her neck.

"And by that you mean…?" Patricia didn't believe it. Was she really going to have her first Friday off?

"That… erm, if you want to you can go home now, do the shopping and make a fantastic dinner!"

"Are you serious? Are you really going to do all the work? And I can just go home?"

"Well, yes. I mean, if you want to."

"Oh, God, Scieszka!" Patricia ran to the other girl and hugged her tight. "Of course I want to go home! But what can I do to pay you back? This won't be for free, will it?"

"I just want fish for dinner. I don't care what you do with it; I want fish in any form. That's my condition. I'll be home about four I think. I'll see you then." Scieszka pushed Patricia out through the door that Maes had almost collided to not even five minutes before.

"And I expect you to make my damn fish good." And with that Scieszka closed the door.

Patricia just stared at the door for a moment, as if she expected Scieszka to come out through the door shouting 'April fool' in her face. When that didn't happen - and when Patricia had realized that it was only the middle of February – she made a small happy dance and hurried to get out of the building as fast as possible. Though, she was extremely careful not to meet somebody, they could get her back into that office faster than Patricia could say 'vendredi*'.

When she'd made it out of Central HQ she ran home and quickly changed from a simple t-shirt and jeans into a pair of better-looking jeans and a surprisingly fancy top she'd found during the only shopping trip she'd managed to squeeze in between work and Scieszka.

Soon she walked the street of Central City and were simply looking at the various shops and recognized 'Mary-Ann's' where she'd bought her Christmas presents for the boys. She smiled a bit at the memory. The old woman in the shop had thought that she was going to shop for Christmas gifts for a boyfriend.

Her smile slowly vanished when her vision got blurry and replaced 'Mary-Ann's' with a similar shop in the heart of Paris. She saw herself trying to decide what to buy for her father for his birthday. Patricia closed her eyes and stumbled across the pavement to reach a wall or something to hold on to. The memory was gone and she took a deep breath to calm herself down before she continued like nothing had happened.

But for almost every single person she saw her mind seemed to let another memory to the surface. There was her father's friend Charlie… and after him came Robin's younger brother Daniel. Patricia looked into a brick wall and tried to shield the memories away, but then another one came to her.

_Ten years old, Patricia stood and looked into a brick wall because she was teased by the school's biggest bully Arielle. _

Patricia tried to look like nothing just had happened, but it was hard. The memories popped into her brain like _snap, snap, snap_.

A girl on the other side of the street looked like Arielle, and the one next to Arielle looked like Patricia's best friend Dawn, who was like Patricia half American/half French.

The café in the end of the street reminded Patricia about all the times that she and Robin sat at a café spilling the latest gossip.

Now she ran down the streets, and she didn't care if anybody thought she was crazy. She just needed to get away from everything.

It almost felt like that day in the Gate when it had squeezed in all the alchemy information, but now with her memories instead of ancient science.

She saw a huge building in front of her. She had been there before, so she knew what it was. It was the hospital.

"No…" she whispered She knew what was coming.

_Emmeline Taylor lied in a hospital bed somewhere in Paris with her husband at her side. They tried to convince their only child – an eleven year old girl named Patricia – that her mother was going to come home soon, and the first thing she would do was to make her daughter pancakes. _

_But Patricia said that Emmeline wasn't going to come home. She simply knew it. Her mother was going to die. She was just stating facts, and she didn't like being lied to. Anthony soon gave up and went out of the room, probably to get a doctor or something. _

_The small girl sat at a chair next to her mother and held her hand. Emmeline looked so… vulnerable. She wasn't much thicker than a stick and her whole body wore marks of a long disease. _

"_It's going to be okay, sweetie," Emmeline said. _

_A week later she was dead. _

Patricia had found herself a small, quiet alley where she sat down and slowly rocked herself back and forth and just waited for it to stop.

It was kind of having a really bad migraine, but worse. After about ten minutes her brain just couldn't take it anymore, it hurt as if millions of billions of hands were physically pushing the memories into her head. She needed a break, but no, it wouldn't stop.

After a very, very long time the memories finally seemed to dry up. When her eyes only showed her a brick wall somewhere in Central City, Patricia slowly stood up. A sudden flash of light brought her back to her knees, but after that it seemed like it had come to an end.

She got out of the alley very carefully and looked around. Where was she? She'd never seen this part of the city before.

'_I guess running in panic are no good,_' she thought.

After another check she understood where her panic had brought her.

The slum of Central City.

The streets was not much more than a dirt road, the walls looked like they'd fall apart if someone blew on them and the safety ladders were broken and some of them seemed torn apart; one piece still hung from the roof, but if anyone tried to climb down one this person better be prepared for a nine to twelve feet jump, or rather, fall.

A bit down the street Patricia saw a group of people, but she didn't think they were the helpful kind.

She stumbled in a direction she hoped was north, and at the same time she searched for some kind of landmark.

Wait, was that what she thought it was?

Yes! She'd found the train station! Well, now at least she knew in which direction she would go to get home.

In less than forty-five minutes she entered her apartment. As soon as she opened the door she heard Scieszka's voice ask "Trisha? Is that you?"

"If it's me?" Patricia asked back. "I sure as hell hope I'm still Patricia Cherise Taylor…"

"Trisha!"Before Patricia had time to react, she had Scieszka stuck on her chest.

"Oh, God, I've been so worried about you! I thought… I didn't know what to think… I was just about to call the police, or Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, or maybe Edward or at least someone!" Scieszka babbled. "But, then I said to myself 'calm down, Scieszka', and then you came back! Where have you been!?"

"Um, Scieszka…?" Patricia said while trying to free herself from her roommate's tight – very, very tight – hug. "I just want to sit down and get some sleep or something. I think we have some leftovers from yesterday - the beef and onion, remember? Can you eat them? I promise, I'll make you fish another day, Scieszka…"

"Of course, Trisha! Here," Scieszka said, dragging Patricia to the couch. "Just lie down here, okay? Do you want a blanket or something? 'Cause, I mean, I can get you one if you-"

"It's okay, Scieszka. I'm fine. I think I might've just caught a cold," Patricia lied. "I'm fine."

"O-okay, I'll just… You want me to leave you alone, eh?"

Patricia smiled faintly and nodded.

"I'm… um… I'll go and eat," Scieszka said and went to the kitchen.

Shortly after that Patricia fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

-----

Suddenly, Patricia woke up. She didn't know where it had come from, but she had come to a conclusion.

"I need to call Edward."

---

* Friday in French

Song of the day: Hero of War – Rise Against


	14. It's What You Do to Me

Hi people! I'm just gonna say that I'm extremely happy that y'all seem to take my (and my sister's) ramblings seriously. It makes me really glad, y'know.  
no, imagine me smiling while you read chapter fourteen of Dying Not to Hurt You: It's What You Do to Me

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter fourteen: It's What You Do to Me

"I need to call Edward," Patricia said out loud into the dark night. She really needed a talk to her personal shrink right at this very moment. Even if it was in the middle of the night.

Wait a sec, he'd left her a note and said that she could call anytime, right? Now was the moment to use that.

Or, wait again, he's asleep. And she didn't want to disturb him, or did she? Edward would really want to know what happened, but he wouldn't be happy to be woken in the middle of the night by a rambling and possibly mentally ill sixteen-year-old. But, still, if she told him later, he would become angry because she didn't tell him sooner.

"Damn, I hate dilemmas almost as much as I hate psychology," she whispered.

In the end she decided to take the chance. She would call him now, half past four in the morning, and pray to God that he didn't go all crazy on her.

She slowly tip-toed to the kitchen where the apartment's only telephone stood on a bench, and searched in her little telephone-book for the note Edward had left her. Soon she found it, stuck between the pages 'L' and 'M'.

Why between 'L' and 'M'? She didn't know. Just the guy-way to organize things.

However, she dialed the number and after less than three signals a man answered: "Central City's First Inn, how can I help you?"

"Erm… Hi!" was Patricia's genius answer. "I'd like to call room number… um… forty-two."

"Are you sure? I mean, the boy who lives there seems… grumpy, and I wouldn't want to be the one to wake him in the middle of the night." The man in the other end of the line sounded a little worried to be the one who actually woke Edward by allowing the call.

"I know him, it's okay. I don't want to wake him either, but it's really important."

"Okay…You'll have him in a minute."

Patricia heard a _click_ and then a couple of signals followed by a voice that said: "Hello?"

"Hi!" Patricia said.

"Oh, hi, Patricia, it's Alphonse."

"I can hear that, but, erm, is your brother awake?"

"Actually, no, he isn't, but I can wake him up if you want to… but it'll make him pretty mad."

"I'm okay with madness after this. But please, wake him?"

"I will. Just wait a sec."

Patricia heard footsteps and Alphonse's voice telling Edward to wake up, and Edward grunting and asking what he wanted.

"Patricia's on the phone," Alphonse said to Edward.

Edward mumbled something, and then Patricia heard heavy footsteps walking towards the phone.

"Patricia?" Edward sounded awfully tired and newly awaken.

"Yes. Hi," Patricia said. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You know, it is in the middle of the night and most people sleeps during the night. Maybe that's something to consider the next time you feel like talking at four-thirty in the morning."

"Yes, I know. Sorry. But I really have to talk to you. But if you were asleep and are terribly angry at me now we can take it in the morning…"

"No, 's okay. I'm awake now so… talk to me."

"Erm, well…" And then she told him about the flood of memories.

"Like when I walked by a small boy, he looked just like my favorite cousin, and when I walked past the store near the small café I saw Robin throwing some clothes at me who he wanted me to try on and…"

"You know what?" Edward interrupted when she was about to tell him about a regular day at school. "I know a café that´s open all the time. We can go there if you want to."

"Well… that sounds… good. Where is it?" Patricia said.

"At Long lane 16."

"I don't know where that is."

"Okay… you know the slip road before the one by the hospital? Take that and go about sixty feet and there it is. Café Teapot."

"Okay, Now I know… I think."

Edward chuckled. "It's okay. You'll find it. See you there in twenty minutes."

"Okay. Bye." Patricia hung up, got dressed and walked quietly out of the apartment.

She found her way there, it wasn't hard at all, and then sat down at a chair in a small booth in the back of the café.

Soon Edward arrived, and they ordered a coffee and a bun each.

They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes until Edward finally asked about the happening the day before. Patricia answered his questions as good and as detailed as she could.

They went away from the café at about seven, and then they walked for maybe half an hour. Edward showed her the park, a place she'd never been to before.

They sat down at a yellow-painted bench and after a short wait Edward said "Tell me Patricia's story."

Patricia smiled. "Well, Patricia Cherise Taylor was born the 21st of November in 1992 at a hospital just outside Paris. I was raised as both an American and French child since my mother was French and my father is - or was, I don't know – American. I didn't go to any kindergarten or something like that, it is entirely my mother's and father's nurture that have made me to… well, me.

"My childhood was like your average kid's, not special at all. I learned pretty fast what Mom and Dad liked and what made them less happy. I learned to read fairly early, but I didn't, and still don't, like doing it. I mean, it was probably just one of those things you do to make your folks happy, you know?

"Well, the first years of my life went by as quick but probably not as quiet as the wind. I began first grade, and when I looked out over my classmates I had to look at one person once again.

"He was my first crush.

"We used to kiss behind the slide. Okay, we weren't kissing so much, we just talked. Now, when I think about it, we just kissed twice, and afterwards we blushed like mad. Hm. However, he broke up the second day of our relationship, I think. He told me that he'd 'gotten bored'. Last time I saw him he was the school's worst player.

"Second and third grade went by without any major incidents, but the year I turned eleven my mother got killed by some kind of disease. Fifth and sixth grade went by in a haze. I don't remember anything big, just that we had to move from a nice apartment to a small one above my uncle's restaurant. But I remember that Robin was there to be my personal therapist, kind of like you." Patricia smiled and after that she continued.

"In eighth grade I had this major crush on a guy named… I don't remember what it is right now but we got together, and we had it pretty good for a couple of months, until I found out that he was cheating on me with like, three or four other girls. It felt kind of embarrassing, but… I, erm, confronted him, slapped him big time and then my knee "accidentally" made contact with his groin. Damn, I felt great at the time. Well, that was until I realized that I was surrounded by people. Not too very funny, but I saw my physics teacher there and she didn't do a thing about it.

"During freshman year I had this… really wimpish teacher called Mr. Bonfils, and he was one of my favorite teachers. The thing was, he didn't give students a D or less, because it was like he didn't dare to give anyone something else. He has failed one student which didn't show up at any classes that semester.

"_Okay, kids, calm down please."_

_The small voice was barely heard over the loudness of loud, bored eleventh graders. _

"_Uh, we are going to study NO today."_

_Some sighed, but 75 percent of the class didn't hear him. When he realized that, he started calling names. _

"_Salacity, Mollie?"_

"_Here," a bored voice told him from the back of the classroom. _

"_Taylor, Patricia?"_

_A loud 'bang' was heard and Patricia was lying on the floor. The teacher rushed to her, but the rest of the class smiled, laughed or sighed some more. _

"_Ms. Taylor! How are you?" the teacher said with a terrified voice._

"_Oh, me?" Patricia said with extreme drama in her voice, "Oh, I'm fine! Look, I can even walk!"_

_She stood up for one second and then she fake-passed-out. Again._

"_Are you sure you're fine Ms. Taylor?"_

"_No, of course I'm not fine! My mother is dead and unfortunately I got her…uh… heart disease! That's why I pass out all the time. I forgot to…uh… take my medicine this morning, and then I pass out all the time! And the stress at home and at school…"_

"_You look pale; do you want to go home Ms. Taylor?" _

_The oh-so sick girl suddenly sat up._

"_Really?! I mean… Yes, oh, my head spins! Why don't you run and write a note so you can leave it the office? Thanks. "_

"_Erm, okay Ms. Taylor, I will do that immediately." Oh, how she loved that he used her last name in every sentence. NOT!_

_As soon as he turned his back at the students a lot of high-fives and smiles were shot at her. She walked to the desk and almost fainted again. _

"'_Are you sure you are okay? Do you want a lift home Ms. Taylor?"_

"_No…thanks. The fresh air will probably do me good…"_

"_But…Yeah, you're probably right. Have a nice walk home Ms. Taylor!" Ew. _

"_Yes, I will try not to pass out…again…"_

"_Ms. Taylor, are you sure…"_

"_Goodbye, Mr. Bonfils!"_

_She walked through the school corridors with a big smile on her face, playing with the thought of missing both English and Math! Sweet!_

_But, well, no the only problem was that she had to go home. Hm. She hadn't really counted that factor in. Well, however, it can't go bad today, can it? Not after that five-star theatre. _

_Or, maybe? Was it on Tuesdays or Wednesdays that uncle Alain wasn't at the restaurant? That day was a Wednesday, and she was fairly certain it wasn't Tuesdays he was gone. _

_Yes, that sounds right. He wouldn't be there and accuse her of school-skipping or something. Hah. _

_But, about the time she got to the restaurant she realized that it wasn't Wednesdays he was gone, it was Tuesdays. _

"_Hi, Patricia! What are you doing here?" Alain said to her when she got into the small restaurant. "Aren't you supposed to be in school now?"_

"_Erm… Well…" Patricia said trying to think of something fast. "Well… my Physics teacher was... about to give birth! And, well, her water broke, and she dismissed us! And, well, after second period we have lunch, so… I thought I'd come by and say hi!"_

"_Patricia…?"_

"_Yes, _oncle*_?"_

"_Your physics teacher is male."_

"_Erm… Oops, I was wrong! It was my math teacher!"_

"_Patricia…?"_

"_Yes…?" she said hesitantly._

"_Your math teacher is woman, sure, but she is old."_

"_Well, erm…"_

"_Tell me the truth."_

"_Erm, well, the true truth?"_

"_Yes, Patricia, the true truth."_

"_I'm skipping school."_

"_No, you don't say!" Alain's voice was filled to the brink with classic French sarcasm. _

"Well, he didn't get so mad I thought he would, but the rest of that day I had to wash the dished at the restaurant. No too funny, actually.

"And then… well, after my freshman year in a new school with Robin at my side I ended up here. Nice, huh?" Patricia snorted a little.

"Well… that was… interesting," Edward said after maybe a minute. After another couple of minutes he added: "I think I've got to go back to the room, it's getting lighter and Alphonse's probably wondering where I am."

"Yes, and I pray to God that Scieszka haven't woke up yet, 'cause if she has I probably have the whole military out there searching for me. I'll see you around."

"Goodbye."

And then they went back to their respective apartments/rooms and secretly hoped to see each other again soon.

---

*Well, pretty obvious, but _oncle_ is uncle in French. Mm-hm.

Song of the day: Hey there Delilah – Plain White T's


	15. Deep Inside I Hope You Feel it Too

Hi people! Well, today is the day for another update, and I made it! Yay! Haha. No, but seriously, it was really hard getting it up today. I mean, not only was the internet almost as quick as me running, and that's _not_ fast, I had this major writer's block. Really annoying, I swear.  
Mais, maintenant I'm gonna let you read this without furhter rambling.

Fullmetal Alchemist fan fiction

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter fifteen: Deep Inside I Hope You Feel it Too

Everything was calm and quiet, which wasn't weird at all since it was about two o'clock and everybody was sleeping. Outside it was dark and the stars shone brightly on the black velvet sky.

As mentioned, everyone was sleeping, and as did the two girls at 54 Seaside Street.

The peace was interrupted by a loud explosion sound and vibrations everywhere from Summer Street to Light Road.

Patricia and Scieszka woke instantly.

"What was that?" Scieszka asked in the typical voice of a newly awaken teenager.

"I don't know," Patricia responded. "Let's go find out!"

"Trisha…?"

"Yes, Scieszka?"

"Do I have to go? I mean, you can give me a complete report later. I want to sleep a little more, I mean, it's Saturday tomorrow, or rather today, and I want to get me some beauty sleep."

Patricia smiled.

"Of course, Scieszka. I'll tell you everything when I come back, so just go back to sleep."

"Thanks," Scieszka mumbled, turned around in the bed and went fairly quickly back to sleep.

Patricia got dressed in a grey sweater, a pair of jeans and the military jacket and got out through the door as quick and as quiet as she could.

She walked carefully down the street. It wasn't hard to find where the blast had occurred; it was smoke, splinters of wood and steel and a crowd of people standing in a half-circle around a collapsed building. Patricia ran to the place, not careful anymore. What had happened?

When she got there everyone seemed to be whispering about the scene and there were military personnel everywhere. She pushed herself to the front of the rows, and then it was like the time had stopped.

Through the ruins of whichever building it was, came a woman carrying a pretty short boy with braided blonde hair…

'_Om my…_,' she thought. She didn't believe it. It was Edward! What did he do there? Wasn't he supposed to be back in a hotel of something sleeping at this hour?

But, no, apparently not. He was here, barely alive after being almost blown up by some sort of explosives.

"Goddammit…" she whispered. "What are you doing-"

"Sorry, miss, but you have to step back," a military officer she'd never seen before said. "You're stepping into a crime scene."

And while her whole world seemed to have stopped she was pushed back by the officer, while some of his co-workers tried to control the rest of the people there.

"There's nothing to see here, people!" they shouted. "Go home and get some sleep!"

"Let me go, damn it," Patricia shouted to the officer who held her left arm in a firm grip. "I'm military, too! I mean, I even have my ID right here…" she said and started digging around in her pockets desperately trying to find it. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes' second assistant, for fuck's sake! Let me in so I can do my fucking job!"

"Oh… Erm, okay, miss. I'll…" The officer loosened his grip just enough for her to drag herself free, and then she stormed to a place where she thought she'd seen the Lieutenant Colonel.

"Thank you!" she yelled to the shocked man she'd left behind her.

"What are you doing here, Patricia!?" Maes yelled when she got to where he was standing.

"Erm… I thought I'd… Well…" Patricia started to feel a little bit uncomfortable. Why was she there in the first place?

"Now, I know that you want to know what happened, but I promise I'll tell you tomorrow at work, okay?" Maes explained.

"I know," Patricia said.

"Well now, why don't you go home and take care of Scieszka, you know how worried she gets, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. I'm gonna go home now."

And, surprisingly enough, she did. Well, almost. First she went to the ambulance that had been driven to the scene as soon as Edward had been discovered, but she wasn't allowed there either.

'_Unfair,_' she thought. Why couldn't she just see him?

'_Now, Trisha, you're going to go home just as you told Mr. Hughes you would._'

Patricia sighed. Now she was going to do what the voice in her head said, too. Who, or rather what, would she be obeying next time?

After another loud sigh she decided that it would be best for everyone if she got some more sleep. She knew how cranky she'd get without her 8 hours of sleep.

But she almost turned around and ran back every time she rounded a corner. God, how she wanted to go back there. She wanted to know how they were, the brothers, if they were all right and such things. Maybe the small detail what the fuck they were doing in an abandoned military lab at two a.m.

'_Nah,_' she thought. '_if they want me to know they'll tell me and if not… I have some tricks up my sleeves myself._'

She smiled at the thought and silently sneaked into her apartment where Scieszka was sound asleep. The sound of Scieszka half-snoring made her think of Robin.

He'd used to sleep over at the Taylor house almost every weekend, which was alright with Patricia's father, Anthony, since he was gay and all that.

The memory made her laugh a little. They'd talked about some pretty nasty stuff some times, about boys and sex and… well things in any of the underlying categories. But other times it was innocent, like about movies or books Patricia never had heard about and probably never would.

Those times… were great. Before she got to this godforsaken place, that is.

But, it wasn't all bad, getting here. She'd met Sean and Loraine Lewis, the Elric boys, Scieszka, Maes and his family… She'd gotten herself a wonderful job (if one doesn't count the endless hours of boredom), amazing friends and so on. The usual stuff, you know, the things one always says is positive when one move from one part of the universe to another.

But it wasn't all good either. She'd died, lost a leg, gotten a piece of metal attached to the stump that was left, met her killer, fallen in lo-

NOW WAIT A SEC!

Fallen in… fallen… off a train! That's right. Fallen off a train. Not that she had, but it was better than the other option, the fallen-in-love option? Mm-hm. Way better. She had _not_ fallen in love. Just so everybody knows.

Now she was mad. She'd thought too much again, over-analyzed a thing that wasn't even possible. Who would she have fallen in love with anyways?

And only one name came to her mind. '_Edward._'

God-fucking-damn it all to hell.

No, she wasn't even going to admit it, because why admit anything that wasn't even true? It was like lying in a court of law. Totally taboo-ish.

Patricia sat down on her bed and tried to sort out all the things that had just flew through her head.

She ended up crying over all the things that had happened, both due to the pressure of having a dear beloved friend at the hospital – maybe even two – and the small question why she'd ended up here.

---

Song of the day: To Be With You - Mr. Big


	16. Hey Little Sister, It's Been a Long Time

Hello people.

Now comes the thing we all (or, at least I) have been waiting for; an update. Mm-hm.

However, my sister (ScrewLikeBunnies) wants to do the author's note this beautiful day, so I'm going to let her - I haven't a choice, really.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Hi everyone, this is Melin behind the pen for once. If you can call a keyboard a pen.

I have to explain why my sister hasn't uploaded for a while. Since february, to be exact. As you may not know, I don't write, I wasn't born with that gift. No, I'm more like the ringmaster of the major circus of writing. I don't control the preformers acts, I more direct them towards the right way of an cliché free circus.

Anyway, she lost it. The want to write. She simply got writers block, even though she knew exactly what to write, because we had decided what to write. But now she's got it back :D

So I proudly present:

**C****hapter sixteen: Hey Little Sister, It's Been a Long Time**

Patricia Cherise Taylor woke up at seven o'clock in the morning. Why seven o'clock? She didn't know. Usually she'd get up at 7:30, but seven?

That was it.

She remembered the night before as if it were one of her flashbacks. The light, the slightly muffled sound… yes, exactly the same.

Edward. Maes promised that he would tell her at work, right?

No, no more lying in bed. Patricia got up, dressed, did the morning toilet-things and had a quick breakfast before waking her roommate violently.

"Wake up, Scieszka! Like, now! We have work today, remember?"

"Mhm…but…we just…I mean…crash…I bet that we don't have to go…"

"Mon Dieu*, enough! That is exactly why we have to go extra much! Maes'll need _more_ help becauseof the crash, not less."

"I...don't feel very well, can I stay home."

"Aw, c'mon! Don't you think that I've heard that like a million times from my little…"

"Oncle_, when do they get home?" the small black-haired girl said impatiently to her uncle. "When does my little sister get home?"_

"_I don't know, sweetie, and we don't know if the baby will be a girl or a boy," Alain responded. "What if it's a little brother?"_

"_It won't be. I know that I'll have a little sister," Patricia said matter-of-factly. She was only seven years old, but terribly stubborn for a kid her age. _

"_You wanna bet? Five euro that I get a nephew!"_

"_Sure. I bet five that I'll get a baby sister."_

"_Do you even have five euro?"_

"_Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Mm-hm. But now I'm gonna go play with _mes poupées*_." Patricia snorted and went away into another room, sure of herself as only a seven-year-old can be. _

_- - - _

_A few hours later the clock struck 1:30 p.m. Alain and Patricia sat at the window after a thrilling game of table-hockey (which Alain won) waiting for Emmeline and Anthony to come home. _

"_Wait, aren't that…?" Alain whispered. _

"_Yes!" Patricia hissed. "Now I'll get my money. Mm-hm. And my little sister. And Mom and Dad of course."_

_The door slammed shut and the cry of a newly born baby filled the apartment. _

"_Mom! Dad! Is it a girl or a boy?" Patricia came running to her parents as fast as her legs could carry her. _

"_Patricia, sweetie, say hello to Isabelle Dawn Taylor, your new little sister," Anthony said. _

"_Yes!" Patricia turned to Alain. "My five euro, please."_

"_Darn. I was so sure… Beaten by a seven-year-old. I should be ashamed." Anthony and Emmeline laughed. This was typical to their oldest daughter. Always right, well, at lest when she was seven. _

_When she had got her money, she turned back to her sister again and said "Hi, Dawnie."_

"_But, darling," Emmeline said, "her name's Isabelle. You can call her Belle if you want to- - "_

"_No, I'm gonna call her Dawnie. That is my special nickname. No one else can call her that, just me. Mm-hm." And, as if to clear that up more, she gave her parents the 'if you dare to argue with me I'll rip your head off'- look. _

"_Of course, darling," Emmeline said and smiled. _

Patricia blinked and her whole body jerked when the memory disappeared.

"Trisha… you okay?" Scieszka looked at her, worried.

"I-I'm _fine_, really. Fine as… well, something that's fine, I can't think of something right now. But, you know what, we _really_ have to get to work today, remember? Yes, you know, bring in way too little money for way too much work so that we can pay for this apartment. Mm-hm." Patricia nodded. "Yes, pay for it, or else he-who- we-pay-the-rent-to will get pretty mad. And so will I, because I don't want to get into any kind of trouble. Mm-hm."

"Patricia?"

"Yes?"

"Stop rambling. Please."

"Hm. Sorry. But let's get to the Military Headquarters and do our crappy job in exchange for an even crappier salary. Okay?"

"Sounds fine." Scieszka got up and got dressed quickly, skipped breakfast even though Patricia told her not to, and they were off to another day at work, which turned out to be more interesting than either one of the girls expected.

In front of the Military Headquarters, 8.30 a.m.

"Girls!"

Maes Hughes stood outside the Military Headquarters waiting for his assistants to arrive.

"Girls! Over here!"

The both girls came running at him as soon as they heard the yelling.

"What is it?" they asked simultaneously.

"Well, as Patricia knows, Edward is hospitalized again-"

"WHAT?" Scieszka exclaimed.

Maes raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry. Continue," Scieszka said a little embarrassed.

"Well, as I was saying, Edward's in the hospital after a… let's call it a crash. He's pretty bad off, but he'll probably be fine. And, after what I've heard, he's been asking for one of my assistants. I'm not entirely sure of whom it is, but I think he wants to see you, Patricia."

"Me? I mean… me?"

"Yeah, you. I'll take you to the hospital at lunch."

Patricia blinked in confusion. Did he want to see her? Goodness, that was enough to make her shake like a leaf. Hm. Not too good, is it?

"Which hospital is it? I mean, I can walk there, I wouldn't want you to drive me if it's just this one," she said pointing to a building a five minute walk from where they were standing.

"It's Red House hospital, and it's a pretty long way away from here. If I drive as fast as I'm allowed, we'll get there in 20 minutes, which leaves you with about 15 minutes of hospital-time with Fullmetal if we want to be back in time. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Hughes, Lieutenant Colonel, sir," Patricia stuttered.

"Good. I'll get you at the office at 11:05 a.m. sharp, and I expect you to have eaten by that time. I left a note at the desk with things to do during the day. I'll see you!" And with that, he disappeared into the vehicle that ten seconds earlier had arrived at the sidewalk beside them.

"Well, let's go do our job then," Scieszka said.

"Yeah. Let's go do our job," Patricia agreed.

---

Song of the day: Hey Little Sister - Javier

*And more French translations:  
Mon Dieu = my God_  
_Mes poupées = my dolls.

**A/N:** **I hereby swear on my mother's virginity (she has four kids xD) that I'll reply on every single review. Appreciated? Let me know. **


	17. Stand Up When it's All Crashing Down

Hello people! Another update (seriously!?! XD), and I hope that y'all will like this one too.

And just for the record, we'd (DamnNearKilledYou and ScrewLikeBunnies) like it if you rewieved. We don't force you to, though (ScrewLikeBunnies: Yes we do! DamnNearKilledYou: No, we don't. Free country, remember!?), but it would be appreciated.

So... let's continue _avec la histoire_, shall we?

**I warn you. If you haven't seen the whole anime (the first one) and/or read the books 1 through 12 I will spoil you. This and the following chapters will contain MAJOR spoilers. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter seventeen: Stand Up When it's All Crashing Down

At work, Patricia became inescapably bored. The only thing she did was to sort through the Lieutenant Colonel's mail and fetching some books along with her co-worker Scieszka.

She looked at the watch about ten times in one hour, which leaved her with an average of one time per six minutes, and because of those statistics the time went by even slower than usual.

And the fact that she knew that Edward and Alphonse was in a hospital somewhere outside Central City didn't help the time to fly by, exactly.

"What time is it, Scieszka?" Patricia asked for the hundredth time that day.

"Ten-thirty, Trisha," Scieszka sighed.

"Still? I mean, isn't it even, like, ten thirty-two?"

"Yes, but I didn't think that two minutes would matter, it's still almost half an hour left."

"Oh. That's right."

The room went quiet again, and Patricia went back to sorting letters while Scieszka wrote something top secret.

'_Mr. Hughes; into the 'in'-box. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes; the 'in'-box. A letter to Mr. O'Donnell; into the 'out'-box. Mr. Maes Hughes; the 'in'-box. Ms. Levithan; the 'out'-box.'_

Fun job, eh?

No. Not really.

"Scieszka…?"

"Ten thirty-three."

"Oh. Sorry."

She sighed. This last thirty, oh, I'm sorry, _twenty-seven_ minutes would be awfully long.

10:56 a.m. 

"Trisha?" Scieszka ogled her friend.

"Yeah? What's the matter?"

"If you want to, I can get the rest of the mail, so can you take lunch a few minutes early. I mean, so you don't have to rush to eat."

"Really?" Patricia ran from hear chair and hugged Scieszka tightly. "You mean that? I mean, it would mean the world to me, you know."

"Yes, but if you don't go now, you'll miss your entire lunch."

"Oh, Thanks again, Scieszka!"

She put on the ill-fitting shoes and the military jacket and almost ran to eat at the dreadful place called, well, it wasn't called anything, but 'the military cafeteria' was the common name of it.

She stood in the line, and happened to come between Kain Fuery and Denny Brosh, two of her almost-friends at the military.

"Hi, Trisha!" Kain greeted. "It's nice to see you."

"Yeah, you haven't been around in the corridors a lot lately," Denny agreed. "Does the Lieutenant Colonel give you and Scieszka too much to do?"

"Yes, it has been a little stressing now for a couple of weeks. But I'll handle it. I always do," Patricia said with a broad smile at the both men.

"Yes, you do." Kain looked at her for a second before asking "How's Scieszka holding up?"

"Fine, actually. She's a little loony, as usual, but she's fine. How are Riza and the others?"

"They're fine, too," Denny said. "The Colonel's a little cranky after this thing with the fifth lab, the Elric brothers and so on, and it's stressing to all of us, but we'll be fine."

"Um, Lieutenant?" Kain said to Denny. "I don't think she knows about it, and I don't think she's supposed to either."

"Nah, 's okay," Patricia said to him. "I was there yesterday when the place went_ kaboom_, so I kinda know it all."

"Hm. It's no fun being in the military anymore," Denny snorted. "Now everybody knows the confidential stuff."

Patricia smiled and took a salver, a plate, a knife and a fork from the rack.

"What's for lunch today?" she asked.

"I don't know, but it smells like some kind of spaghetti, don't it?" Kain said. "Yes, definitely. And sauce."

"Ew. I don't like Italian food," Patricia looked at the trays of food with disgust.

"You don't like what?" Denny, who apparently had caught 'Italian', said.

"I don't like… don't like… the sauce!" Patricia panicked. God, when was she going to learn that no one knew what Italian was? Or anything for that matter? And one may call her paranoid, but she really didn't want to be put away in some kind of lab just because she successfully made it through the Gate.

"Well, if you say so…" Denny said, but didn't really seem to believe her.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Mm-hm." End of conversation.

---

Those five minutes went by really fast. It was probably just because she had to eat so much in so short time, but anyway. At exactly 11:04 a.m. she found herself running towards the office where Maes would pick her up. When she got there, Maes stood there waiting for her.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you. No, however, let's get going," he said dragging her to the car which was parked outside the Military Headquarters. He put her in the passenger seat and smoothly slipped behind the wheel and drove away in a remarkable speed for that time.

"Whoo…" Patricia whispered.

"Yeah, this one is the military's pride. Nice ride, isn't it?"

"Yes. It certainly is," Patricia nodded in agreement. She didn't dare to do anything else at this speed, which was the fastest she had experienced in almost a year.

The rest of the twenty minute ride was quiet. It wasn't an awkward silence, like the ones Patricia and Edward so often shared, no, this was a pretty relaxed silence. None of them needed to say anything and everyone was happy.

Just kidding.

The situation was, yes, quiet, but tense. Patricia didn't want to ask Maes anything about the explosion because she knew how he'd react, and it wasn't a good reaction. Maes, on the other hand, didn't want to ask Patricia why, or rather how, she and Edward got along so well.

So it was quiet.

And quiet.

And quiet a little more.

Fun?

No.

Awkward?

Yes.

However, eventually they got to the Red House hospital, and they got through the usual arrangements, but with a little too much security for a usual hospital.

"How come that it's so… many security guards here?" Patricia somehow found the courage to ask.

"Well, this isn't an ordinary hospital, see." Maes answered. "This is where we – the military – keep the ones we don't want… going out. You know, to the press. And, also we don't want the press or any other people for that matter come and get them."

"Oh. I see. State hospital. Get it. So, where is he?"

"I'm afraid that I have to follow you there, and then pick you up. Security."

"Okay." Patricia nodded. "Security."

After a quick talk to a nice lady somewhere deep imbedded in the security-system they were on their way to a room at the very top of the building.

"And here we are. The room of the Fullmetal Alchemist. I'll come and get you in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir."

She stood in front of the door, laid her hand on the handle and opened the door slowly.

---

Song of the day: Stand in the Rain – Superchic(k)


	18. You Come over Unannounced

Hi again, everyone. Another chapter, another continuation, another author's note. Still hope that you like the story, and I'm still kinda hoping you'll let me know.

(Hint.)

Ah, well, however. Let's not stall, hesitate, delay, linger or waste any time here. (Sorry about the synonyms)

Here we go:

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter eighteen: You Come over Unannounced

"Patricia?"

She was met by the sight of Edward. He was sitting up in his bed looking towards the door.

"Hi." Patricia walked in and took off her military jacket. She wouldn't be needing that in the room, it was fairly warm in the sterile room. She didn't look at Edward at first, she looked around in the room and glared at the brown curtains for a while, but sooner or later she had to look at him.

"You can sit down if you want to." That forced her to look at him. And, oh, God, he looked like a mess. Bandage everywhere, a blue cheek suggesting a slap, or something equivalent of one, and a sorrowful look on his face.

"Oh. Thanks." Patricia hung her jacket over the chair and sat down. "Why did you want to see me?"

"Erm, well, I know that you'd worry that small head of yours off if you didn't see for yourself that I was okay," Edward laughed.

"No I wouldn't!" Patricia laughed back, well aware of the joke behind the statement.

"Yes you would!"

"No!"

"Yes! And that's final. You know you would."

"Hm." Patricia looked at him. "You're right. How come you know me so well?"

"Luck, I guess." Edward smiled.

"Hm. Well, remember that it was you who said it. But really, why?" Patricia tilted her head a little and looked at him.

Edward looked down at the sheets. His hair covered his eyes so there was no way for Patricia to tell if he was going to tell her the truth or not.

"I guess I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, I guess," Edward said after a moment of silence.

"Oh. I'm fine. What made you think otherwise?" Patricia asked.

"Well, I dunno. A feeling, I guess." His gaze was still locked at the sheets that covered his legs, as if he was ashamed of what he was saying.

"If someone should worry, it would be me. I mean, a _friend_ of mine got blown up." Patricia put extra pressure on the word 'friend', just to make sure to herself that he was no more than – that's right – a friend. "And there was no way for me to know if he was going to make it or if you…"

The mere thought of the other outcome made her look down as her heart quivered in cramps.

"No, but I'm fine, see? Just like you. Fine. No worries." Edward smiled a broad charm-smile and looked at her.

"I guess not, but if you and your brother got, you know, less blown up, I know that I would sleep easier."

"Yeah. That 's right. I promise to get, as you put it, 'less blown up' just to ease your beauty-sleep, which you by the way need. A lot."

"Edward! Stop that!"

"Why should I do that?"

"'Cause I'm gonna hit you if you don't stop, even though I don't want to since you're in the hospital."

"Why would that stop you from hitting me?"

"Well, I wouldn't want you to get patched up too soon." Patricia glared at Edward, and he just laughed. "Speaking of, where's your brother?"

"I don't know. I think he's on the roof." Edward sounded worried.

"On the roof? Why?"

"I don't know. Sulking, maybe. Or thinking. He's been doing that a lot lately. He commands one of the guards to carry him to the roof and there he sits the whole day."

"Ah. I see. No, wait, _carry_?"

"Yeah. Carry. He's… well, worse off than me. His arms and legs got chewed off."

"_Chewed_?"

"Um, yeah. I'll tell you someday. Promise. I think you're out of time now." He pointed to the door, where Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was standing.

"That's right. Fifteen minutes over. We need to get back to work now. At least if you want to get there in time." Maes seemed tense and kind of angry over something.

"I'm coming." Patricia took her jacket, put it on and followed her superior out.

"Bye. I'll see if I can come back some other time."

"Yeah. Bye."

The door closed silently behind them. Edward stared with honey-yellow eyes at the door for several minutes after they had left in a quiet wish that she could come back and be his personal therapist.

---

12:55 p.m.

"Trisha! You're back!" Scieszka bounced around in the small office as if she hadn't seen Patricia in four years.

"Calm down, Scieszka," Patricia told her jumping friend. "I'm here now, but let's get back to work."

"What's the matter?" Scieszka glanced at Patricia. "You don't use to want to get back to work until lunch is over, and it's five minutes left."

"I know. I'm…" Patricia looked down at the wooden floor, studying it thoroughly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, really. Let's just… where's the rest of the Lieutenant Colonel's mail?"

Scieszka pointed to a pile of papers at Patricia's desk. "There."

Patricia went over to her desk and started to sort through the mail. She didn't say another word for the rest of that day.

---

Later that night, when Patricia and Scieszka had eaten dinner Patricia still hadn't said another word.

"What's wrong, Trisha?" Scieszka asked.

"Nothing, really." But she knew what was on her mind.

"If you say so…"

Edward. It had hurt her more than she thought it would do seeing him like that. It felt almost the same as seeing her mother at the hospital for so many years ago. It hurt her soul deep, and she knew that the mark would leave a scar, just like Emmeline did when she died.

She closed her eyes hard and tried not to think of her mother, but what could stop the thoughts when they had come to her? Nothing. The memories of her soft, kind mother in a hospital bed surrounded by different machines keeping the fragile body alive was almost unbearable. At the end she couldn't even move, just speak to her family, and barely even that.

And she died.

Patricia didn't know what she'd do if anyone she'd come to know here in this world would die. Probably something drastic, but no one can possibly know something like that on beforehand, right?

---

Song of the day: Complicated – Avril Lavigne


	19. All is One, One is All

Hello everyone, again. Another Sunday, another update. A little earlier than usual, but no one complains, right? xD

I'm now sitting and writing the 25th chapter of this story, which will be uploaded on the website in... six weeks?

However, now the ringmaster (Sis) is kinda mad with me, so I'll let you read this chapter.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter nineteen: All is One, One is All

It was a bright Sunday afternoon, and Patricia had baked a pie which she thought she'd give to Maes and his family. She was really proud of her creation; it was an apple pie with cinnamon and small sprinkles of chocolate on top.

She walked the streets humming on a song she didn't quite know the lyrics to, but didn't have to think at all at what she was humming; she knew the song by heart.

Edward and Alphonse had left town to search for whatever they were searching for in another town, she didn't know the town's name. Okay, honestly she hadn't even bothered to remember its name. She simply didn't care. They had left almost a week ago, and she started to miss them a little, but she'd decided that she wouldn't call them (as if she could) or something. She would just wait patiently for them in her dumpy apartment and later greet them as old friends when they decided to come back to town.

Finally she arrived to the Hughes's house. She knocked on the door, and after a minute Elysia opened the door shouting "Daddy!"

When she saw who it was she looked down at the ground, sad.

"Elysia, who is it?" Gracia came to the door. She looked tired and worn, which was kind of weird since she almost always was smiling.

"Oh, Trisha, hi. What brings you here?" Gracia's attempt to smile remembered Patricia of her mother in that hospital bed.

"Erm, I just thought that I'd leave this. But now I wonder what's wrong?" Patricia's eyes were filled with concern for the second family who had been kind enough to take her in for a while.

"I guess you haven't heard." Gracia looked like she was going to break down crying any second. "You better come in… and sit down."

Patricia went into the strangely quiet house and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs.

"What is it, Mrs. Gracia?"

"He… he's dead, Trisha. Maes's dead."

With those words, something broke inside of Patricia. It shattered into small, sharp pieces.

"What?" Patricia whispered. "What do you mean?"

Gracia turned away. "He's dead. Killed in action, the day before yesterday."

She could hear Gracia crying over her lost husband, but Patricia couldn't bring herself to cry. She just stared emptily in front of her like there was no tomorrow.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you. I will go home now." Patricia said, and when Gracia didn't answer or respond in any way she left. She closed the door quietly after her and started to walk aimlessly around in Central City.

4:28 p.m.

Patricia wound up sitting at the edge of the sidewalk staring down at her own feet. She didn't know what to do. She was Mr. Hughes's assistant for crying out loud! Not neither she nor Scieszka had any job as far as Patricia knew, and what if the did have a job? What would she do then? And, more importantly, who would she talk to?

'_Go to the military and find out_', the voice in her head told her.

'_That's clever. How come I didn't think of that?_'

'_You just did, dumbass_'

'_Oh, that's right. Sorry._'

Arguing with herself wasn't really a turn-on. Hm. No good. First sign of a mental disorder; you start to speak to yourself or other dead things.

However, she now walked the streets with a new goal in sight; the Military Headquarters.

After a thirty-minute walk she arrived at the reception and carefully asked the receptionist if she still had a job.

"Well," the fat old lady said, "you are – or were – with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, right?"

Patricia nodded, unable to speak.

"Your name?"

"P-patricia Taylor, ma'am."

"I see. Then you'll have to go to Colonel Roy Mustang."

That name sent chills down Patricia's spine. She still thought of that man as her killer, and even though she knew that this wasn't the man who had killed her she always got the picture of a man who said 'thank you, miss, and have a nice day.' It freaked her out every time she saw him at a distance in the cafeteria, or when she ran into him in the corridor.

"I'll call and see if he has time for you," the fat lady continued. "If you just stand there for a moment…"

She dialed a number and Patricia could hear the entire conversation from eight feet away from the phone.

'_Well, that has to be the downside of the 1910's, way too loud phones._' Patricia thought.

"_Colonel Mustang."_ The voice alone was enough to want her to run out of the building and never come back.

"Sir. I have a girl here who states that she doesn't have a job anymore."

"_And how exactly is that any of my concern?_"

"Well, she's under your command now that, well, you know…"

"_Yeah. That's right. Send her in._"

The fat lady hung up, looked at Patricia and said "You're lucky, kid. Take the corridor to the left, and then you turn right, then left and then right again. After that you take the third door on the left, and there he is."

"Do the rooms have numbers?" Patricia asked.

"Yeah. His number's 308. It's not that hard to find, really."

"Oh. Thanks."

Seven minutes. It took seriously seven minutes for her to reach the Colonel's office. God, couldn't the military have a smaller house or something?

However, when she got there she stood in front of the door for a moment. She closed her eyes hard; she _really_ didn't want to go in there. But if the wanted to have a job she probably had to, and a job was necessary if she wanted to bring in money, which was necessary if she wanted to live.

She gathered courage and begged to the great God – or whatever they had here in "Amestris" - to let her live through this.

She pressed down the handle and stepped into a fairly large room with a big desk in the middle. Behind that desk sat the man she feared most in this entire world; Colonel Roy Mustang.

Suddenly unsure of herself, she asked "Am I gonna have to… salute or anything?"

"Yes. I'm your superior, and you salute every time you approach one of your superiors and when you leave the presence of one." Mustang looked a little like Maes had when he felt that it was troublesome to explain things for either Patricia or Scieszka.

"Oh, sorry." She saluted half-heartedly. "Sir."

"What do you want? As you see, I have a lot of work to do," Mustang gesticulated towards the piles of paperwork on his desk, "so I hope we can get over this quickly."

"Erm, well, sir, I don't know if I have a job now that… you know. You know, right?"

"Yes, I know. Let me just check your file here… what's your name?"

"P-patricia Taylor, sir."

"Taylor, Taylor… Are you sixteen or forty-seven?"

"Sixteen last time I checked, sir." Patricia looked at Mustang like 'can't you see that for yourself?'.

"Just wanted to check. Patricia Cherise Taylor, huh? 54 Seaside Street, you share an apartment with a co-worker, first name Scieszka. You have signed for… let's see…" He browsed through a couple of papers. "… three years, correct?"

"I-I have no idea, sir."

"But you signed right here, see?" He showed her the document, and as true as said, the scribbled name 'Patricia Taylor', was there, alright. No doubt about it.

"I guess I did…" God, three years? She couldn't have… read through the papers. Hm. Not good. "But what am I gonna do? I mean, there's not yet a new Lieutenant Colonel for me to be assist, and when there's a new one he'll probably only want one and that's Scieszka, right? I mean, why would anyone need _two_ assistants? I don't know how Mr. Hughes put up with us…"

"Patricia?"

"Yes?"

"Please, shut up. Look, you'll probably run errands for the whole military now. Well, for me and my people, but you'll need to do no more. Take it or leave it. Oh, wait, you can't leave it! You have almost two and a half year left! Uahahahahahahahah!"

"Yes, sir… sorry, I mean--" Patricia nodded. "Not a sound."

"You begin here tomorrow. You come in here the first thing you do and report, just so that I know you're here, and then you'll get your orders."

"Okay. I'll go now. But," Patricia turned around to face the Colonel of her nightmares again. "do they know? The brothers, about… you know?"

"No they don't, and I'm not going to tell them. It would slow them down."

"Why? They have every right to know! You can't keep something like that from them!" Patricia exclaimed.

"Of course I can… Now wait a sec, I don't have to tell them. I'm going to send you on a mission, little miss."

"What? Me? I don't get it, jumping from one subject to another just like that just isn't logical--"

"But if you shut up for a second maybe you'll get it when I've told you. You're going to go to East City and pick up this book for me…" He scribbled down something on a paper and gave it to Patricia.

"Why? I mean, you have a lot of books here right? And I don't understand why you need one in… Chinese?"

Mustang sighed. "That's just a cover. You are going to find the Elric brothers and you are going to tell them that Brigadier General Maes Hughes is dead. You'll be provided with money from the military so you won't have to starve. Get it?"

"Yes. I get it. Where are they, I'm gonna need to know that, right?"

"I have no idea."

"What? You don't know?"

"No. I send them on missions, but half way there they find some kind of trace which leads them out of my control. So; I don't know. You are going to find them and tell them, but no one else can know about the real mission. You, I and the Elric brothers can know, but not Scieszka, not Mrs. Hughes, not anyone, get it? And also, the last thing you do before you leave a town is; you call me, and the first thing you do when you come to a new town, directly at the train station; you call me. And when you find the Elric brothers, you call. Understood? And, by the way, don't se your own name. Call yourself Meredith Cannon if you call somewhere else than the military, to hotels and such. "

"Yes, I understand you perfectly fine. Call at important stuff. Meredith Cannon. Thank you, Colonel, sir."

"You can leave whenever you want to, but just--"

"Call you first. I get it."

"Call…" he wrote a new note for Patricia "…this number and say this code, and you'll come directly to my telephone, untrackable, untraceable, nowhere for anyone to find. You can go home and pack now. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Colonel, sir. I'll get going now. Do I have to--?"

"Yes, of course."

"Sir." Patricia said and saluted again before she got out of the room.

'_Mission, eh? This might get exciting_.'

---

This time it's not a quote from a song, it's the title from the Fullmetal Alchemist first anime episode 28: All is One, One is All.


	20. Why Did You Have To Go?

Hi everyone! I realized that it was Monday and not Sunday just after my last class, and then I remembered that I hadn't updated. So, here it is:

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty: Why Did You Have to Go?

'_Mission, eh? This might get exciting._'

Patricia got home and after a couple of hours she decided to be a good girl and pack, just as the Colonel had said that she would. The, all of a sudden, Scieszka came into the room.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Well, erm, our new employer, Colonel Mustang, sent me out on a mission."

"Mission? Can we…? What mission?"

"Erm, I'm gonna pick up a book from… well, somewhere." Patricia felt bad for lying to her friend, but Mustang had told her that no one could know about the mission, so she didn't really have a choice.

"Seriously?! A book? Can I come?" Scieszka squealed.

"No." Patricia said a little too fast. "I mean, we can't afford that. And besides, I think that you're gonna be assisting the new Lieutenant Colonel."

"That's kinda unfair," Scieszka muttered. "What if I don't want to? I mean, I only signed for one year--"

"You did? I had to sign for three years!" Patricia glared at Scieszka.

"You didn't read the paper before you signed it?"

"…No."

"That's right. You're so predictable, you know that, Trisha?"

"…Yeah. I've been told." Patricia continued to pack her things. "Just so you know, I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I'll say goodbye before I leave in the morning, okay?"

Scieszka looked at Patricia. "Sounds… fine. I'ma go to bed now, I think. I'll see you tomorrow."

"G'night."

Patricia watched Scieszka's back when she went away, knowing that she'd probably not see her again for a while.

She was planning on leaving when Scieszka had fallen asleep, just to avoid the hard goodbyes. She really didn't like saying goodbye. Well, what sane person does?

She finished packing and went into the kitchen to take some sort of provisions to have on the train, along with some of the money from the cookie jar.

All she had to do now was to wait for Scieszka to fall asleep, which usually didn't take too much time, but this very night it seemed to take an eternity. Patricia ended up playing solitaire on the kitchen table, which was about the most tiring thing she'd ever done.

10:43 p.m.

Now Scieszka couldn't fight the sleep anymore. Patricia wrote a note to her and quietly slipped out if the apartment.

_Scieszka,_

_I really can't handle a goodbye very well, and I think it's easier for both of us if it happens this way. I'll miss you a lot and God (or whatever) be with you._

_I promise to send you letters and postcards. _

_Love,_

_Trisha._

Patricia felt really bad about doing it this way, but it simply had to be done this way, for everyone's welfare. She went to the train station and searched for a phone booth to call Mustang from.

Eventually she found one, and she dialed the number.

"Central City Military Headquarters, Marjorie. How can I help you?"

"Erm, well… I'm Patricia… you don't need to know that, do you? I'm going to… Aw shit." She just rattled off the code at the bottom of the note she'd gotten by Mustang.

"Wait a sec, I'll connect you," Marjorie said automatically.

After a second she heard a scraping sound. "Colonel Mustang."

"Erm, hi, sir. It's me, I mean Patricia."

"Oh. Hi. You're leaving already?"

"Yeah. It's easiest this way. I'ma catch the train to Rush Valley first, just for your information."

"Okay. I see that you get it. Call me. I'll hear from you soon."

"Yeah."

And with that they hung up on each other. Just like that.

Patricia got on the train and found an empty car to settle in. Shortly after the conductor had sold her a ticket and informed her about the food car and other important stuff she fell asleep.

Almost six hours later she woke up by the sound of a door opening. Soon she realized that it was the door between two cars that had opened, since the conductor was there again.

"Excuse me, miss?" the young man said. "We're almost in Rush Valley. That's your destination, right?"

"Yeah," Patricia said sleepily. "Thanks."

"Anytime." The conductor smiled. He couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, and he had a pretty sweet smile. "Well, miss, if you don't mind sharing, what's your name?"

"Me? I'm Patricia Taylor." Patricia was confused. No stranger had ever wanted to want her name unless it was job related or something.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Alexander Osbourne."

"Hi." Alexander held out his hand, and Patricia shook it. A new friend, eh? It felt nice, being able to make potential friends this easy. Or, well, at least have a person that's independently nice to you.

They talked for a while, and she felt that they really connected. In a friend-way.

"Well, now I have to go and check on the other passengers. It was nice meeting you." He reached out for her hand and she took it.

"Same here." Patricia smiled. And before anyone could say "very fast" he was out. She felt something in her hand, and there was a paper. And on that paper there was a phone number and an address. This guy's so cliché that it's cute.

He reminded her of her eight grade crush before he went cheating on her. What was his name again? She didn't even remember it anymore. It had been a couple of years after all.

The train slowed down and rolled to a soft stop at the station. Patricia got off the train and breathed good old Rush Valley-air once again after all these months. She'd left the city in the middle of October, and now it was May eighteenth. Time goes by fast.

She looked forward to meeting Sean and Loraine again. Sean would probably want to look at her automail again, se so there wasn't anything he'd missed or something like that, Patricia didn't know. She wasn't an automail engineer after all.

But first, she did what she had to do.

What did she have to do? (Dora the Explorer style)

Louder!

Yes! Call Mustang.

"Central City Military Headquarters, Marjorie. How can I help you?" the receptionist said.

This time Patricia just said the code, nothing else.

"Wait a sec, I'll connect you," Marjorie said.

"Colonel Mustang."

"Hi. It's me again. Patricia. I'm in Rush Valley now. You wanted to know."

"But couldn't you wait until morning?"

"No. You said right away."

"I guess I did. But now I know, so just… sleep for a while."

"Okay. Bye for now!"

_Click_.

He hung up on her. Hm. Not too very good, eh?

Well, now she had to find a place to stay the rest of the night. She began her long walk the nearest Inn, which she knew was about a mile away.

Long way to go. Terribly boring – and dangerous for that matter – at 5:15 a.m.

---

Song of the day: Don't Tell Me – Avril Lavigne


	21. Something Different Going Wrong

Hello, hello, people. New chapter. Exciting, isn't it?

Oh, well. Not so very, for me at least. I know what's gonna happen. But dear Lord, I'm evil. But let's get on _avec la histoire_.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-one: Something Different Going Wrong

After another four hours of dreamless sleep and a cup of coffee Patricia was on her way to Sean and Loraine's house. The automail had begun to squeak at the joints and it was really annoying at times.

She really looked forward to see Sean and his wife again. They were after all the two people who had taken care of her when she'd fallen down from Heaven or whatever she'd done, given her a leg so that she could walk and fed her for four months. The Lewis couple was probably the only thing that Patricia missed about this town.

Now she stood in front of their small house, and she was nervous for some reason. She raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she even had time.

"Patricia?" Loraine smiled. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah. It's me." Patricia smiled too. Now she felt like she was home.

"Come in… how have you been?" Loraine stepped aside to let Patricia into the house.

"I'm fine, actually. I've got a job now and so… But where's Sean?"

Loraine looked down at the floor. "You should probably sit down."

Patricia furrowed her eyebrows and wished from the bottom of her heart that it wasn't… that he wasn't…

"Patricia… Sean, he… died this Friday. His heart, and his lungs… they gave up."

Patricia couldn't speak, and she breathed heavily. It was as bad as she'd feared. "He… he..."'

"Yes." You could see the sorrow shine through the mask Loraine so carefully had put on. "The funeral's tomorrow, I mean, if you want to go."

"Yes. I'll go."

'_I didn't go to Mr. Hughes's funeral, so I'll go to Sean's,_' Patricia thought.

"I have some clothes you can borrow--" Loraine said.

"No, it's okay, really. I'll go to the tailor's and get clothes myself." Patricia interrupted.

"Are you sure, these are for free and…"

"No, I'm sure. It's okay. I have money now."

"Oh, that's right, you have a job now. Where do you work?" Loraine's attempt at casually change the subject was too… flat.

"Right now I'm working at the military." Patricia didn't do a better job than Loraine at pretending that they didn't talk of someone's death just before.

"The military, you say…?"

'_Aw, shit._' Patricia forgot that Loraine was one of those people who disliked the military.

"Well, I'm just an assistant, you know. Not really into the whole 'we-are-proud-soldiers'-thingy either. I just, you know, assist them so they can do their 'we-are-proud-soldiers'-thingy."

"Oh. I see. Then what are you doing here?" Loraine's eyebrows had taken a disturbing form suggesting that she didn't like where this was going.

"Erm, well, I have an assignment, a mission."

'_Aw, crap._'

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'm picking up a book…"

"Why? Don't they have enough books in those oh-so-great libraries of theirs?"

"No, not this one." Patricia grimaced. This wouldn't end well. "I'm gonna get it in East City…"

"East City?! Do they seriously send a… How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen-year-old to get a book from East City?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, Lord, give me strength. Now, you should probably get to the tailor before I… do something."

"Yeah, I probably should." Patricia hurried out of the small hut. She couldn't get out of there fast enough, because she knew how Loraine got when she was angry.

And that was a sight you'd live longer without seeing.

However, she went to the tailor a bit down the main road and got into the small shop.

"Hello, I'm Angelica Summers, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Patricia Taylor and I need… what do you say, funeral clothes?"

"Yes, of course. I'll get right on it. A dress with high or low collar?"

"High, I think. Can you make it so that I can wear it like an everyday dress too? I don't have so much money, see…"

"Yes, of course! Let me just… Stand over there." Ms. Summers pointed to a small plateau. "I'll measure you, and then I'll start sketching, alright?"

"That'll be… fine, I guess." Patricia walked over to the plateau and let Ms. Summers measure her as she liked. "Does your father live in Central?"

"Yeah, he does. How'd you know?" Ms. Summers asked surprised.

"Well, two tailors Summers… you see how I make the connection."

"Yeah. He's talented."

"He certainly is. He made this," Patricia said and pointed to her military uniform.

"Oh, really?"

And the chit-chat went on until Ms. Summers's sketch was finished.

"See here," she said. "I gave you a nice dress to wear both as a casual dress and for little more formal events. See this skirt? Fabulous. Simply fabulous. And the scarf in this light material? God, I'm a true artist."

"I think it's good. I'll trust you on this one 'cause I don't know anything about fashion or style or anything like that," Patricia laughed.

"When do you need it done? When's the funeral?"

"I'm not sure, actually. I know it's tomorrow, but nothing more."

"Okay, then you can come and get it… let's see, eight thirty tonight? Between eight thirty and nine?"

"Sounds great. I'll see you then. Bye for now!"

"Bye!" Patricia went out from the shop and walked down Main Street wondering what to do next.

She knew that Brigadier General Hughes's funeral was the day after, and she wondered how she could be there, without actually being there. Kind of tricky.

That was something that she would have to think about for a while, but she'd figure it out somehow.

Well, anyways, now she needed to do what she really came here for; finding the Elric brothers.

And how would she do that? She rubbed her knee and started to think. The automail had begun to hurt a little during the trip to Rush Valley, but she was sure that it would be over pretty soon, or at least that's what she hoped for.

Now she knew! She needed to get a list of all the motels, hotels and inns in Rush Valley; they must've stayed somewhere, right? Where was the nearest phonebook? In a phone booth, she assumed.

How come they were so hard to find? They were bright red, but she couldn't see a single one through all the dust.

Shit.

She knew that there was an Inn named the Flying Eagle somewhere near the tailor, so she decided to go there first.

When she got in, a young girl smiled at her from behind the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" she said.

"Hi, I'm Patricia Taylor from the military," Patricia pointed to her military clothes, "and I need to know if you've had any guests named either Edward or Alphonse Elric recently, the last two weeks maybe?"

"I-I'm not entirely sure I can give you that kind of information..." the girl stuttered.

"Of course you can, miss…" Patricia raised an eyebrow.

"Derichs, ma'am. Hannah Derichs."

"…Ms. Derichs. I'm military, remember?"

'_Oh, good Lord, it's funny to hear them call me "ma'am"._'

"O-of course, ma'am. Wait just a second…" Hannah browsed through a pile of papers. "N-no, no guest named Elric in our records."

"Why, that's a shame. But it's like the boys, though. Always keeping me busy. And tired, for that matter." Patricia chuckled, thanked Hannah for the bother and went out of the Flying Eagle.

She walked back to the motel where she was staying and tried to find a phonebook so she could call some of the other motels in Rush Valley, which wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do.

Sigh. Wonderful. She had an exciting evening in front of her.

---

Song of the day: Tears Don't Fall – Bullet for My Valentine


	22. My Once Pleasant Dreams

Hi again, people. Here comes the continuation of Patricia's journey, and more exciting things is to expect.  
I'd be pleased if you all remember that a small review makes an author feel loved.  
Well, here goes:

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-two: My Once Pleasant Dreams

"Hotel Five Stars, Marybeth, how can I help you?" a female voice answered.

"Hello, my name's Meredith Cannon and I work for the military. I was wondering if you've had any guests named Edward or Alphonse Elric the last two weeks."

"Just wait a moment… No, I'm sorry; we haven't had any guests by that name."

"Hm. No worries. Thanks."

"Have a nice day."

'_Thank you, miss, and have a nice day_.'

Patricia shivered. Nothing remembered her more of that night than that simple sentence. For a second she felt the front of her shirt soak in something warm and sticky…

No. Back to business.

She sighed. That was the sixth place she'd called to. In Rush Valley there were a total of fourteen hotels, motels and inns, and she had to search through them all to find the boys. It wouldn't surprise her if the last one was the one where they'd stayed.

'_Oh, that's annoying,_' she thought. '_But why not start with the last one then?_'

Now she thought she was _really_ smart.

'_Okay… number fourteen… Rush Valley Inn!_'

She dialed the number.

"Rush Valley Inn, Riley, how can I help you?"

'_Isn't it funny that they answer _exactly_ the same?_'

"Hello, darling." Patricia decided to play with the poor boys mind, just for the fun of it. "My name's Meredith Cannon and I need to know if you've had any guests by the name Edward or Alphonse Elric lately."

"Erm, yes, ma'am, I will… I mean, I don't think that I can give you that information."

"Of course you can, darling," Patricia said smoothly. "I'm in the military, see? And that means you will tell me if they have stayed there or I will come there myself and beat you up big time."

"O-of course, ma'am. I mean, sir, but your name was Meredith Cannon, right? I mean, ma'am. I'll…"

"You better find my piece of information right now, or I'll be there in five minutes and beat your ass off." Patricia had a hard time fighting the laugh that bubbled up her throat like a fizzy drink.

"Yes, I mean, of course, ma'am. I'll… yes, I mean, no, they haven't been here, at least not legally, I mean--"

"Relax, darling." Patricia couldn't hold back a small chuckle. "You've told me what I need to know, alright? 'S okay now. I'll hang up, you'll hang up and everything will be okay."

_Click._

He hung up on her.

"Hm."

God, that poor boy. Patricia was the king – oh, well, queen – of mind-messing.

Uahahahahahah.

No, seriously. Her plan didn't work. The last-first-plan. They weren't there either.

Aw, crap.

Number seven's up.

"Royal Hotel, how can I help you?"

'_Hooray, they didn't say their name!_'

Now wait a second.

"Did you say Royal Hotel?" Patricia asked.

"...Yes, I did."

"Aw crap." She'd called her own hotel.

"I'm sorry. I've called the wrong number." Patricia said and hung up.

She felt a little embarrassed. She actually called her own hotel, which is kind of pathetic in a… Patricia way.

'_Next, number eight…_'

"Blue Fountain Motel, Deidra. How can I help you?"

"I'm Meredith Cannon, and I work for the military. Have you had any guests named Edward or Alphonse Elric lately?"

"Yeah, actually, an Edward Elric was here between fourth and seventh May. Do you think it's the right person?"

"Yes, I think so. Thank you."

"Good day."

Patricia hung up. She smiled. Now she'd found them… Or, well, not _found them-_found them, but she knew where they had been.

She glanced at the watch. Eight forty-five p.m.

Shit. Wasn't she supposed to pick up her dress now?

Yes, she was.

No good.

Patricia put on her jacket and ran as fast as she could to the tailor.

When she got there ten minutes later she got into the small shop panting heavily.

"Ooh, running to get here?" Ms. Summers said.

"Yeah… kinda."

"Well, your dress is ready now, if you're ready for it." She blinked with one eye and looked meaning at Patricia.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Where can I change?"

"Over here," Ms. Summers pointed to a booth in the corner of the small room and handed Patricia the dress.

Patricia changed quickly and got out of the booth to show Ms. Summers how she looked.

"Wonderful. I love it," Patricia said. She felt like a princess in it. Well, not a medieval princess but a really modern one, like… a modern princess.

"I do too. My best creation so far, I think."

"Wait, I'll just go change again and you'll get the money…" Patricia went into the booth again, and came out almost as fast as she'd gotten in.

"Well, fast changer, are we?"

"Yeah, kinda. I mean, I've got a little sister…"

"Oh. I know what it's like. No bathroom-time there."

"Nah," Patricia said and chuckled. "Here." Patricia handed Ms. Summers the money plus about five percent, as a good-job-thing.

"Thanks. Feel free to come again soon!"

Patricia waved and walked to the motel again. She changed from the military uniform to a XXL-sized t-shirt which she used to sleep in. After that she did the night toilet things and got to bed. She fell asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow.

-----

_A sharp light forced Patricia to close her eyes hard. When she opened them again all she saw was that gate she had seen the night she died. _

"_What are… why am I…?" Patricia stuttered. "Why am I here again?"_

"_You're dead, sweetheart." _

_Patricia turned around to see who spoke to her. It wasn't the Gate, it was a woman's voice and she could swear that she knew it from somewhere…_

_A black-haired woman walked towards her, but she couldn't really believe it. That woman was dead, and had been for more than four years. _

_It was Emmeline. It was her mother. _

"_Sweetie, you're dead. This is where you wind up when you're dead. You'll walk these halls forever," Emmeline said and pointed to the endless corridor which seemed to stretch from one part of the universe to another. "Come here, Patricia. Come to mother…"_

_Patricia took a hesitant step towards her mother, but now Emmeline was close enough for her to see her mother's eyes. _

_They didn't have the dark brown color they used to have. They were white, blind, unseeing eyes looking at Patricia as if she was the last thing in the entire world. _

"_Come here, Patricia. It's not so bad to be dead. Come here and I'll show you the burning Hell that awaits the ones who passes through without paying their taxes…"_

_A tear trickled down Patricia's cheek._

"_I-I've paid my tax, Maman, see? Look at my leg, look at me!" she shouted. "I don't need to go to Hell, please, Maman, I don't want to…"_

"_Come here and I'll make the bad, bad life go away…"_

Patricia jerked forward when she woke up. She breathed heavily and she was wet by all the sweat and the tears she'd spilled through the night.

She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. That was by far the worst nightmare she'd ever had. It was worse than any of her flashbacks, it was way worse, and she didn't know what to do.

After a minute or so she'd calmed down enough to get up from the bed and drink a glass of water.

If she only could call Edward… he'd listen and he'd tell her that it was okay, that everything was going to be fine, and – most importantly – she would believe him.

But, no, of course a nightmare like this one had to come exactly when she had no idea how to contact her personal shrink.

Damn nightmares with bad timing.

It really wasn't much she could do; she put on some clothes and prepared herself to go to Sean's funeral which would start in a couple of hours.

---

Song of the day: My Immortal - Evanescence


	23. Bludgeoned With a Baseball Bat

A sad chapter. Sorry to everyone out there who hates sad chapters, but this one begged to be written.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-three: Bludgeoned With a Baseball Bat

"Sean's funeral."

"Sean's funeral."

"Sean's funeral."

It didn't matter how many times she said it.

"Sean's funeral."

It was like telling a baby that 'red' and 'blue' are different 'colors'. It didn't make sense at all.

"Mr. Hughes's funeral."

He would be buried too, at the very same day. The two people who seemed to genuinely care about Patricia from the moment they saw her were gone.

"Gone."

"No, not gone. Dead."

That's right. Not gone, dead. The word 'gone' means away for an unknown amount of time, but 'dead' was gone forever.

"No turning back, no bringing back. There are no such things."

Patricia looked herself in the bathroom mirror and saw the definition of sorrow; long, black hair, black clothes and that look in the eyes spoke of hopelessness and despair.

No, not now. Patricia blinked away the tears. Now she had to be strong for the both of them. She had called a flower shop earlier that morning and gotten them to send flowers to Mr. Hughes's funeral.

She was tempted to do the same thing for Sean's funeral, but she'd promised Loraine that she would be there, and she'd never break a promise that she knew she could go though with.

The clock struck 10:30 a.m., and in twenty minutes she needed to be at the church.

'_Pull yourself together, Trisha!_' she told herself. '_You can – and will – make it through this day, and the next, and the next, and the next…_'

Yeah. She knew that. But right now her whole world was falling apart, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She sat down on a chair and put the military shoes on. There really wasn't anything else she could do. She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid leakage and took some deep breaths before going to the magnificent church in the middle of the city.

She got there pretty quickly and joined the black, silent crowd cautiously.

And the sun shone brightly. It was mocking and deriding everyone who had any connection to either Sean or Mr. Hughes, or those who knew both for that matter.

It was the perfect mood for a funeral; crying women, men who tried their hardest to not cry and numerous children who didn't understand why their mothers, fathers and older siblings cried.

Then there were these few empty humans who had nothing to say, those who already cried their lungs out and those who couldn't bring themselves to cry, no matter how hard they tried.

Patricia belonged to those who couldn't cry. She had already decided that she couldn't cry, but now when everybody else was, and she felt that she was kind of allowed, she couldn't. It was like some kind of messed-up miracle; for the first time in her entire life she could resist crying.

It hadn't been like this when her mother died. She was eleven years old at the time and fully capable of understanding that she'd never see her mother again. She'd cried heartbreakingly and wondered why it happened to her of all people. Isabelle – Belle or, as Patricia called her, Dawnie – had only been four years old and didn't understand the meaning of the word 'dead' yet. She had just hugged Anthony's legs tightly while crying because almost everyone else was.

This time it was different. Patricia was a big girl now.

But she still couldn't cry.

-----

When it was finally over, Loraine came over to where Patricia was standing.

"Hi, sweetie. If you want to, you can come over for dinner tonight," she said and looked everywhere but on the newly dug grave and Patricia.

Patricia thought for a moment.

"No," she said. "I can't. I need to get to East City as soon as possible, but thanks for the offer."

Loraine smiled. "Well, if you ever have time… I'm just a phone call away."

"Yes, you certainly are…" Patricia smiled back and walked away from the graveyard. It was time to go. She had already been in Rush Valley for way too long, and she had to be on her way to away from there as soon as possible.

She went back to the hotel and picked up her baggage and went on to the train station to catch the noon train to East City, where she thought – and hoped – that the brothers would be.

She walked up the stairs, and suddenly her legs disappeared from underneath her. She fell slap-bang from the stairs, down five or six steps and landed on her left knee. She heard something crack, but she ignored it and tried to stand up again, exactly the opposite of what the people around her told her to do.

She stood up and supported herself against a wall.

"I'm fine, really. I'm fine," she tried to tell the townspeople. After some persuasion they sighed and went away, now bored with the stranger girl. Patricia realized that she only was standing on one leg – the right one. She looked down at her flesh-and-bone leg and prayed to any higher being that the automail would be intact.

She took a step forward and grimaced by the overwhelming pain that rose from her left leg.

'_Goddammit_,' she thought. '_Not now…_'

Oh, yes, now. Of course now.

She swore and cursed every living creature in this universe as she halted to a nearby hospital to buy some crutches or something equal so that she could keep travelling to the big city in East.

Money changed owners and Patricia hurried back to the train station. Her train would leave any minute now, and Patricia had a really hard time to jump forward on the crutches since she wasn't used to do it. But eventually she made it, just as they shouted out "Last chance: the train to East City is leaving in a minute!"

She halted onto the train with some minor problems. She sighed when she sank down on a seat in an empty coupé.

"Why the hell did it happen now?" she asked out loud as she looked at her now mostly dysfunctional automail leg.

"Why did it happen when the only person who can fix it is gone… forever?"

The train was on its way out to nowhere and now she could finally cry.

---

Song of the day: Misery – Green Day


	24. Rolling Faster than I'm Breathing

Hi everyone. Another update. Enjoy.

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-four: Rolling Faster than I'm Breathing

The monotone noise of the train had brought her to sleep within minutes, which wasn't surprising exactly, since she was exhausted from crying, worrying, thinking, searching and mourning all night long.

She woke up when the train stopped short, something that almost flung her off of her seat. She was only saved by her bag which she conveniently enough had placed in front of the seat instead of on the shelf over her. When she looked at the watch she saw that the clock was almost five o'clock; it was almost time for her to get off.

"Next stop: East City in ten minutes," a scratchy female voice was heard from the numerous loudspeakers spread all over the train.

Ah. Finally, she was almost there!

She tried to stand up to gather her things, but sat down almost instantly as her left leg vibrated in pain.

'_Aw, crap_,' she thought. Some weird dysfunction from after she fell on it, right? It had squeaked a little bit earlier that week, but she had no idea that it would turn out like _this_.

She took the crutches and prepared herself to go off the train. She took her bag and swung it over her shoulder while trying desperately to keep balance, which actually wasn't the easiest thing to do in the military uniform. Curious, isn't it? Shouldn't the military clothing supposed to be easy to move in, like if one is to battle or something and the stiff fabric is in their way and they wind up dead thanks to it? But what if the actual soldiers had softer fabric and the ones with only a desk job got the stiffer fabric? Wouldn't that be terribly unfair to the office workers? They sat after all at their desks all day long and complained over the uncomfortable uniforms.

And then we shouldn't even mention the shoes!

Hm. Curious indeed.

Curious but irrelevant.

The ten minutes had almost passed while Patricia gave thought to the everyday military uniform, and the train was slowly rolling into the station.

Patricia stood up and grimaced in pain as she did so. To say that it hurt was an _extreme_ understatement.

She halted forward towards the door, opened it and went out of the coupé. The train corridor was hard to walk though, seeing as it was awfully narrow for a person without crutches.

She eventually got off the train and onto the platform under certain muffled curses improper in fiction texts. The poor conductors got sputtered at as they tried to help her.

Oh, dear Lord, she was in a bad mood.

But, that could of course be explained by the leg, the grief of losing two people close to her and having to be commanded by someone she didn't like, combined with a very bad, bumpy sleep.

Nah, that couldn't be it, right?

And that, my friends, was sarcasm on a sky high level.

However, she got off and started to walk to an information booth or something to find out where the nearest motel was located.

After maybe five or ten minutes of looking she found a small house, or rather cottage, a few meters from the train station.

"Hi," she said to a young girl – she could've been six, maybe seven years old – in the cottage. "My name's Patricia Taylor and I want to know where I can find a motel." Patricia smiled her most charming smile at the girl.

"Err…" the girl said unsurely. "Wait a sec, I'll get my dad. He knows these things better than me."

Patricia smiled again. "Of course, sweetie."

The girl ran into a smaller room in the cottage, and Patricia heard that she talked to a man in there.

In a minute, a very, very large man came out of the room. He had a large beard, furry eyebrows and small dog-like eyes. He was about 6'6'' and in all that a very terrifying man. Patricia's eyes were the size of saucers when the man smiled at her and talked to her in a voice as smooth and slippery as honey.

"Hello, miss, how may I help you?"

"I, er, I just wanted to, err, know where to, erm, find a motel."

"Wait… here," the man said and fetched a map from a shelf behind him. "If you go here, and here, and turn right here, there's a pretty fancy motel just beside a coffee-shop."

"Thanks, mister."

"You're welcome, miss. Goodbye."

"B-bye," Patricia stuttered and went, hopped, out of the cottage and left the strange man smiling and waving behind her as fast as possible.

Strange man. Peculiar town, East City.

She walked the streets as fast as she could under the circumstances. She really wanted to get there fast and maybe get some kind of good nights sleep, but when she rounded the first corner she bumped into somebody.

Her butt hit the sidewalk first, which was not too very nice. She looked up to see who she had bumped into, but the person was already gone, probably in a hurry somewhere. She sighed, cursed the overly stressed people and started to stand up again, a task which was not too pleasant, when she heard a familiar voice.

"Patricia?"

She looked around and searched for the voice's owner when two strong arms dragged her up from the ground into a standing pose.

"Are you okay?"

She turned around carefully and there stood Edward and looked at her. She blinked a couple of times and stared confusedly at him for a second before saying "I'm fine, thanks."

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"That's rude," Patricia remarked.

"Well, let me reformulate the question: what are you doing here?"

"That was no reformulation."

"No, it wasn't, but… just answer," he said.

"I'm looking for you and your brother." Patricia looked at him and waited for a reaction.

And he reacted, alright.

"What, looking for me and Al? Haven't you got a job in Central to do?"

"No, not now. Right now you two are my job. I have to tell you something. Come here," she said and started to walk to a café a short walk from there.

Or at least she thought it was a café.

"Wait…!" Edward shouted after her. "What happened to you?"

"'What?" she shouted back.

"Crutches? Since when does a perfectly healthy person have to use crutches?"

"Erm, well, long story short; I tripped."

"What--"

She went though the door and Edward followed her.

It wasn't a café. It was better.

It was a bar.

"Nice…" she whispered.

"What are we doing here, Patricia?"

"Come here." Patricia sat down on one of the bar chairs and motioned for Edward to sit down beside her.

"Something with alcohol," she told the bartender. "A shot."

"Are you old enough?" the bartender grunted, but he didn't really seem to care. He seemed more the kind on bartender who only cared if the customer had money to pay.

"Yeah, I am, and besides I'm military and that means that I can do almost what the hell I want to."

"Yeah, yeah."

"What are you doing?!" Edward exclaimed.

"Drowning my sorrows," Patricia said when the first shot appeared in front of her. She downed it quickly and made a face when the bitter taste hit her tongue.

"What the hell?! Just… tell me what you are supposed to tell me, and we'll get outta here!"

"Three," she said to the bartender, who more than willingly poured up the shots.

"Patricia, c'mon…"

"No, I'll tell you after these. I need to get drunk."

She tossed her head back and downed two more. She sighed heavily as the alcohol claimed its right and she started to feel a little anesthetized.

"Brigadier General Hughes, former Lieutenant Colonel, is dead."

She stared emptily in front of her, as if she hadn't until now acknowledged to herself that the statement was true.

"…What?" Edward stared at her. "He can't--"

"He'd dead, Edward." She turned her head and looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Dead. Gone forever. He's gone to the place no one can bring him back from. Inescapably, inevitably _dead_. And so is Sean. You know, Sean Lewis? I told you 'bout him."

She leaned forward and supported her head in her both hands for a second before downing the night's fourth shot and gestured to the bartender to pour up three more.

"No, no more drinking, Patricia! We're going back to the motel… where are you staying?"

"Nowhere…" Now, after the fifth and sixth shot, she started to splutter. "I didn't have time to… to…"

"Check in." He ended her sentence. "Finish that and we're going to my hotel, then."

He sighed. He'd now realized that there was no way he could argue with a drunken Patricia Taylor.

"…Yeah." She downed the seventh and last shot and stood up. In the hurry, she forgot two things – or, well, technically three -: the crutches and the alcohol's effect on her bladder.

"Dear Lord," she said and fell to the floor for the second time that hour.

"Geez, Patricia." Edward took her elbow and dragged her into a standing pose, that too for the second time that day.

"Cura… crur…"

"Crutches. Here." He gave her the crutches, simply enough.

"I need to… to go to the restroom."

"The what?"

"The toilet…"

"Ah! Go, fast!"

"Yea." She walked to the bathroom, got in and did what she came there to do. She came out after a few minutes and was about to lose balance again, but fortunately for her Edward stood right outside the door waiting for her.

"Come on now. Let's get you to some kind of bed," he muttered.

Patricia half walked, half jumped right after him when he stomped out of the bar.

"Where're we goin'?" Patricia asked him.

"To a motel not far from here." He didn't turn around when he answered. She could even in her slightly… let's say dull state that he was irritated. She tilted her head and gave him a questioning glace, which he ignored.

Hm.

He looked around, and set eyes on a bicycle not far from where they were standing. He walked over and said to Patricia "Sit here."

"Where?" she asked.

"On the carrier." He pointed to a poor device which served as luggage carrier on the old bicycle.

"There? Seriously?"

"Yeah, there. Where else?"

"Dunno." She walked on unsteady legs to the bicycle and sat up on the carrier. "Wo-where should I put the curu… crua…"

"Crutches. I'll carry them." He took them and sat up on the bicycle. After trying the several different possibilities he put the crutches over the handlebar and went away on wobbly wheels.

Patricia had a fairly hard time keeping balance, her left leg being heavier than the right and so on, but she thought she did it pretty good considering the fact that she was drunk.

But soon, she felt a wave of nausea flowing over her as physical to her as the wall beside them.

"Edward?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"I think I need to throw up."

"Ah! Erm, wait." He stopped in front of an alley. "Hurry."

Patricia nodded and halted without the crutches a bit into the alley, and before she knew it she threw up, just like she said she'd do.

When she was done she felt that a pair of hands held her hair away from her face. It was weird, her right hand kept her steady and the left held her stomach, and Edward stood beside the bicycle. Or was he?

"Feeling better?" he said and looked at her with those golden eyes, which through the clearness of those shots looked even more yellow and honey-like.

She stood and looked into them for about ten seconds before replying with a vague "Mm-hm."

"Good, but let's get back to the hotel. We've got some kind of bed with a curtain or drapery around it in our room. You can sleep there; I don't think Al would mind."

"Thanks." Patricia said and faltered back to the bike. She felt a little better now, maybe kind of dazed or blunt, but better without as much alcohol in her body.

She climbed up onto the carrier once again, Edward sat on the bicycle and they were off again.

The last few minutes disappeared in a haze – the only thing she remembered later was that she sang something – but soon they were at a motel called Red House.

"'S the same name as the hospital," she said.

"Yeah. Now come here." He gave her the crutches and walked into the small motel, leaving her behind.

"No, wa-ait!" she shouted after him and tried her best to walk after him. "Wa-ait for me!"

"C'mon. Faster."

"Nah! No! I mean, can't go faster!"

He sighed and slowed in just inside the door. When she came in she didn't really see much of the lobby, because she looked down on the floor. She just heard that Edward argued a little with the man behind the disk.

"C'mere, Edward. No worries. Y'don' needs to be unnice t'im."

"You're right. Come here, Patricia." He walked to the stairs in the corner of the room and didn't wait for Patricia to come after him.

She walked as well as she could manage after him and got somehow, like through a miracle, up the stairs and into room number 52.

The last thing she saw was Alphonse opening the door.

---

Song of the day: Drown – Three Days Grace

Sorry about the drunk part. Just couldn't resist it.


	25. Very Handsome Awkward

Hi people. Now it's like this: I'm not going to update next week. I'm going to be in London between June 25th and July 2nd, so no computers.

Sorry, but that's life. It's summer. Enjoy this chapter 'til then.

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-five: Very Handsome Awkward

And then she woke up.

She slowly and safely opened her eyes. Her head ached and she felt the disgusting smell of old alcohol on her.

'_Aw, shit,_' she thought. She had really done it. She'd gotten drunk.

She moaned and sat up, which was a big mistake. Her leg hurt, her head hurt, even her stomach hurt a little.

The bed she now sat on was a little smaller than she was used to, and it was surrounded by a bone white drapery.

She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there, but she assumed that she'd gone in there when she still was a little… let's just call it 'influenced'. She didn't even know where she was. Nothing was familiar, nothing at all.

The drapery was lifted aside and Edward peeked in.

"Are you awake?" he asked.

Patricia nodded. "Yeah."

"Erm, do you want breakfast or something?"

"Sounds great," she said. "Thanks."

He smiled. "Just wait a sec." He disappeared again.

That's right. It was Edward's and Alphonse's motel room. No. It couldn't be she thought while pinching her cheek.

Oh yes, it is. Right.

She slowly touched her head, and to her not so big surprise she didn't have that much of a hangover. She'd had a severe hangover once in her life, 15 years old. That was times.

"'_Paaaatriciaaaa! My little baby honey! How aaare you?!' Robyn screamed while reeling to the sink with an empty beer can in his hand._

'_GREAT! I JUST PUKED! Give me vodka and Red Bull please!'"_

She smiled at the memory. One of the first times she'd drunk, the second or the third, maybe. She laughed a little while the drapery was opened once again an Edward approached with a tray full of breakfast things.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so I took it all."

Aw.

"Thanks."

She took coffee and a toast while Edward took five bacon slices and three boiled eggs.

"So…" Edward exclaimed after a while of silence.

"So…?"

"What you said last night…"

"I said a hell of lot things last night. What I remember."

"That part about Hughes."

"Oh. "

"Tell me again. It still feels a bit unreal"

"Well." She took a deep breath. "Brigadier General Hughes is deceased."

Silence.

"Why did you come all the way here just to tell us that?"

Oh shit. She knew that he was going to be pissed.

'_Lie' _the small little voice in her head told her. Why was her head always smarter then her brain?

"Well… Um, I was going… to a mission and thought I'd see you and tell you!"

She said all that while smiling her nicest smile. Edward raised an eyebrow.

Okay, scratch that thing about her head. They were both dumb.

"_Putain_*. Okay, well, truth? I wanted you two to know," she confessed.

He raised the other eyebrow.

"It's true!"

"Yeah, yeah, I believe you. It's just that…" He went silent.

"It's just… what?"

"…I shouldn't have dragged him into this mess."

"What do you mean? You haven't--"

"I did it, or Al and I did it, we dragged him into this fucking mess." He put his head in his hands and sighed. "Do you know what happened?"

"Erm, well, I only know that he was found in a phone booth near the Military Headquarters, shot. Nothing more. Sorry." Patricia leaned forward, put her arm on the small nightstand and leaned her head in it.

After a short, tense silence Edward said: "What are you doing here, anyways?"

"What?" Patricia said, surprised.

"I mean, how did you wind up here?"

"Erm, I… I was sent here on a mission."

"Who sent you? On the so-called 'mission' I mean."

"You're not gonna like this," she whispered. "Erm, well… I don't really want to tell you," she said out loud.

"So? You're gonna have to tell me anyways."

"Erm… Colonel Must--"

"Colonel Bastard sent you?"

"Well, technically that's true, but it all started with me worrying for you and your brother and, well, I wanted to tell you, or at least have him to send someone to tell you, and, well, he made it a mission and sent _me._"

"Hm," he answered after a moment. "There's not much to do about that now. Too bad, I wanted to send you home again, but I guess you're stuck with me for a while now." He sighed.

"Huh?" She had no idea whatsoever what he was talking about.

"Your leg. I'm gonna take you to an automail engineer that I know."

"N-no… I… I just want…"

"Sean? Right. As if that would happen. He's dead too, I've been told."

Patricia felt the tears rise in her eyes. Right, he was dead too. She drew a hasty breath and her nose betrayed her by letting out that unmistakable sound which meant 'beware: crying teen' or something.

Edward looked at her. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"'S okay, I guess. I just knew him for four months, and I haven't seen him in six, so I'll be alright. Promise."

"But let's go back to the leg-question. How do you wanna do, wanna go an engineer in Rush Valley, here in East or will you come and see Winry?"

"Winry? Wasn't that the girl before, back when I met you boys?"

"Yeah, I believe that's her."

"She seems like a nice girl."

Edward nodded slowly. "Yeah, she's a nice girl."

"You like her?"

"W-what? N-no! I mean, friend-like her not… well… erm, I, we're kinda like childhood friends, not like _that_."

"'S okay, it was just a simple question!" she laughed.

"Ah. Sorry, I guess I'm kinda touchy about the subject. Al and I… well, we sort of fought over her when we were kids."

Patricia laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It's not funny."

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is! And don't say it's not, because it is."

"…No it's not!"

"Well, positive: it seems like you're in a better mood now."

"Better mood?" Edward said and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yes. You acted like you were mad or something before. I was worried I had done something wrong, but I could get you smiling, so… what's your problem?"

"Sorry. I never wanted you to see that."

"Well, that's sweet, but you didn't answer my question."

"And I won't. You don't need to know."

"Yes I do! I mean, please, tell me?" Patricia smiled unsurely.

"God… Okay, I let him into something he never should've seen in the first place."

"Hm. Do I have any chance at knowing what it was?"

"No. We need to get going. Train's leaving in an hour."

He rushed out of the alcove and the curtain moved back and forth after him.

'_What did I do wrong?_'

---

*Putain is French for 'fuck'.

Song of the day: Pretty Handsome Awkward – The Used


	26. This Is Not My Home

Hi everyone! Now I'm back from London, happy as ever (even though I got a heatstroke at Camden Market...).

Well, however. You don't care about that, now do you?

Another chapter, from all of us (me and... the other me's) to all of you.

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-six: This Is Not My Home

"_This_ is Resembool?" Patricia glanced over the small village, not knowing what to believe.

"Yes. This is where brother and I grew up," Alphonse said and laughed a little as if many people had asked him the same question.

"Seriously? I mean, there's absolutely _nothing_ here. I always pictured Resembool, like, larger or something. I never thought it would be rural area." Now the infamous skeptic look of Patricia Taylor was visible.

"Er, well, no. This is our home town, no more, no less." Edward said.

"Hm. No wonder you don't know how we do in the city."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding," Patricia laughed.

"You better be!"

"Calm down, brother..."

"I am calm! Now, let's get to Winry's before it gets dark."

And so they walked. And walked. And walked a little more.

"How come we didn't take a car or something? I'm in some trouble now, I mean, crutches!"

"Adapt to the country way of doing things." Edward stared in front of him.

"I can't do that! I'm fully and completely a city person!"

"I know."

"There was a nice car at the station. You could've hijacked it."

And they walked a little further in complete silence.

"Could you stop clicking your crutches?" Edward said between his teeth.

"What?"

"Every time you put down these things it clicks loud as hell."

"Oh, that's your fault, Mr. Let's-walk-because-it's-healthy!" Patricia said while smashing the crutches even harder to the ground so the clicking noise went louder.

He sighed loudly while Patricia started to put down her supportives as many times as possible.

"Aw crap." Patricia stopped short.

"What?" Edward turned around and looked at her.

"I suddenly realized that I haven't called the Colonel." Crap.

"What? Why do you…"

"It was part of our… let's call it agreement. I have to call before I leave a town, when I arrive to another one and when something crucial happens, and as of now I have left a town, arrived to another and I found you guys. And fell, but I don't think he needs to know that."

"Hm. He's always so…"

"A pain in the ass? Controlling?"

"Yeah, that's correct definitions of him." He nodded. "Definitely."

"Well, what am I gonna do? I mean, I can't tell him I forgot…"

"Of course you can. He can't do anything when you're out here in the middle of nowhere."

"True enough. But what am I doing here?"

"You're getting your leg fixed, I thought you got that--"

"Yes, I know, but what do I tell the Colonel?"

"You tell him that you got kidnapped by us."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I mean, that's what we do, right? We're kidnapping you." Edward laughed, and soon all three of them laughed heartily, until when a wrench came down from nowhere and hit Edward in the head.

"Hey! What the hell, Winry?" Edward lay on the ground and kicked around with a bleeding bump on the back of his head.

"I've told you to call first!" Winry yelled, and then spotted Patricia. "Who is she, and what's she doing here?"

"I'm Patricia Taylor, and I was, well, kidnapped." Patricia made that kind of small bow that Japanese people more often than necessary does.

"What does she do with you guys? I mean, did you pick her up like a stray cat or something?"

"Hey! I'm right here, you know!"

"No, I didn't. She's a friend, and she's in desperate need of your services." Edward pointed to Patricia's leg.

"Automail? YESH!"

And in a millisecond Winry was down from the balcony where she was standing to the exact same spot where Patricia was standing. She had picked up the leg from the ground, causing Patricia to fall down, and was turning the leg back and forward to get a better look on the piece of scrap metal. Well, as good as you could see with Sean's magic socks on.

"Amazing…Take off your pants!" Winry continued to look at the leg as she gave the order.

"Hey! I like my pants on, please!"

"No like that, silly! I want to look at it more! Come, let's go inside." She dragged Patricia into the Rockbell house.

They went in and Patricia started to take off her pants as discrete and unrevealing as possible.

"Amazing…" the blond said again while Patricia took off the sock. "Who is your engineer?"

"Sean Lewis."

"That's what I thought. He is kind of famous because of these socks. It's so unbelievable that he can make a material that is so thin, but still so natural…"

She started to mumble to herself while Patricia put her leg on the low table in front of the sofa. Edward sat down beside her, Alphonse went upstairs with the luggage and the old lady said something about tea and went into the kitchen.

"Well," Winry said after a bit of study. "This doesn't look good."

"Oh. Why?"

"Do you know about automail?"

"No."

"Well, car engines?"

"A little bit," Patricia said while giving her a questioning look.

"You… well, everything on the inside of this thing is completely rusted together, and, well… that's not good. This is as bad as if you had conned the spark plug to the fuel tank. The only difference is that this won't go all _kaboom._"

"Oh," Patricia said. "That is not good, eh?"

"No. Not at all. You haven't taken care of it, I take it."

"What 'not taken care of it'?"

"You have to oil it."

"He never told me!"

"Well, I've told a certain _someone_…" Patricia could hear her cursive tone in Winry's voice "…to oil it every time I see him, but still…" Winry glared at the earlier mentioned certain someone.

"Hey, I have better things to do then oil a stupid…"

Yet another wrench hit his forehead.

-----

While Winry worked on repairing Patricia's automail, Patricia used to sit beside her in the workshop and talk to her. They bonded quickly and in the end by that week they were really good friends.

Once, Edward stuck in his head and wondered why Patricia could sit there but he couldn't. The girls quickly shoved him out with the argument that the workshop was 'girls only'- area.

Not the most logical argument in the world, but it worked.

Early one Wednesday morning, Patricia was peacefully asleep in her lent bed when a hand violently shook her awake.

"What is it?" she asked the person whose hand woke her. "Is it breakfast?"

"No, it's only four o'clock in the morning. I need to talk to you."

Confused, Patricia slowly opened her eyes to see who was there. "Four o'clock a.m.? Are you nuts? Can't it wait 'til morning?"

"Well, first: it is morning, and second: no, it can't wait. We need to get out at this very moment."

"Edward, have you gone clinically insane? Four o'clock isn't morning; morning isn't 'til ten or something, and what is so important it can't wait until a more decent time?"

He sighed. "Come on. I'll wait downstairs while you dress," he said and went out of the room.

Patricia blinked a couple of times before slowly sitting up and dressing in the military pants and an oversized t-shirt. She went downstairs and told him that he was a very troublesome person too early in the morning.

At this, he just smiled and motioned for her to follow him outside.

"What is it? Tell me now?" Patricia smiled. "Tell me and I will go back to sleep."

"Nah, I don't feel like telling you right now. Let's walk for a bit."

Patricia rolled her eyes. "Now I know you're insane. I mean, Winry hasn't even fixed my leg yet, and you expect me to hop around at these things?" She waved the crutches a little. "Seriously?"

"...Yeah, kinda."

Patricia muttered something inaudible and soon got quiet.

_Click… click… click… click… click… click… click… click… click… click… click… click… click… click…_

The early morning made no sound aside from the steady _click_ing from Patricia's crutches.

"Can you stop that?" Edward seemed to find the noise pretty, or rather, _very_ annoying.

"No!"

"Well, however… Please, try to stop?"

"No!"

"Anyways…" he groaned and picked a handful flowers from the side of the road. "Now you're gonna make these into a ring."

"Huh?" Patricia looked at him, confused.

"You're gonna take these--"

"I know what you said! It's just that… huh?"

"Alchemy."

"I'ma enchant them into a ring?"

"Not _enchant_, Patricia. _Transmute_, can you say it for me? Trah-ns-mute?"

"Stop it! I can say it; I know what it is, but, how?"

Edward sighed. "You kind of like, melt them together. Like this:" He clapped his hands together and put them gently on the flowers. There was a blue flash of light and almost out of thin air appeared a flower ring.

"See? I can't do that."

"Of course you can't! It's too… basic for you. See, I think that when you got through the Gate, it just stuffed your head with the details; you don't see the whole picture."

"So I'm like… flying, but I don't know how to run and flax my arms?"

"No, not really… or yes, you're flying, but you don't know how to walk or even crawl yet. You know the big things, not the basics. Now, try it."

"How? I don't have a circle!"

"I don't think you need one. Just… clap your hands and touch them, I guess."

Patricia looked mistrustfully at the new handful of flowers that Edward gave her. She took a deep breath to calm down. "Okay… here goes."

She clapped her hands and laid them on the flowers. The now familiar blue light appeared and devoured the world.

---

Song of the day: Home – Three Days Grace


	27. What Happened to My Faith

Hi guys! I'm sorry for not updating yesterday, but I seriously had no idea whatsoever which day it was xD

Dying Not To Hurt You

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-seven: What Happened to My Faith

The attempt failed. Again, again and again.

"You know, I'm seriously pathetic," Patricia laughed. "Can't even do… whatever the hell we're doing."

"You're not pathetic. See, less goo this time. Less goo on the inside and more flowers on the outside," Edward said trying to make Patricia feel better about the whole thing.

Edward had given her a handful of flowers and commanded her to transmute them into a ring. It didn't really go well at all, mostly because Patricia failed the whole time.

She really did suck at alchemy.

The first attempt went… bad. Bad, bad, bad and _bad_. The transmutation gave them a green squishy oval kind of ring, and when Edward cut it in half they were surprised by the white-ish goo inside the ring. It was probably the flowers in liquid form.

"Hm," was the only thing Edward said at the discovery, after which he gave her a new handful of flowers and told her to try again.

The only thing that there was a lot of that night was patience from Edward's side. Patricia, however, complained and laughed at her miserable attempts at the complicated science known as alchemy. It was kind of funny actually, she transmuted, he cracked the thing open, he 'hm'-ed, she looked at the pitiful creation, he gave her new flowers, and the carousel began all over.

After an uncertain amount of flowers and uncountable flashes of blue later, she did it. All the flowers were on the outside, and there was no white goo inside it.

"That's positive, right?" Patricia asked when Edward shared the new findings with her.

"That's great! Patricia, you did it!" He smiled at her. "Now we're done here, let's continue our journey towards the unknown goal where I'll show you something!" He put his fist in the air as a victory gesture.

Patricia laughed. "You're really funny you know!"

Edward grinned. "I am!? You can't be serious! Come here." He stretched his hand down to the ground where she had decided to sit down under all her fruitless attempts at making the flowers into a ring and dragged her up to a standing pose.

"Where will this oh-so-secret goal turn out to be then, my brave knight of Alchemy?" Patricia laughed.

"Oh, well, my fair lady," at this he bowed like a true nobleman of the eleventh century, "it does not lie so far away, but I fear that her poor, tender feet will make it all the way there!" Edward grinned again.

"Oh no you didn't…!"

"Oh, yes I did…!"

"I'll make you pay for that!" She started to hunt him as good as possible with crutches and everything, and he just ran away. "C'mon! Don't I even get any handicap?"

"No." He stopped.

"Why!" Patricia still ran towards him as fast as she could manage.

"'Cause we're here."

Before them a small church stood and waited for visitors, it seemed. It was stylishly decorated and reminded her a lot of the Catholic Church in the middle of Paris where Patricia and her mother went almost every Sunday.

-----

"_Why do you go to church so often, Maman?" Patricia, five years old, asked her mother. _

"_I want God to love me, and I hope that he'll make me come to Heaven, sweetie," Emmeline answered. _

"_Why doesn't Daddy come with you? Doesn't he want to go to Heaven?" the girl asked. _

"_Of course he wants to go to Heaven, sweetie, but he does it in a different way than I do."_

"_Can I come?"_

"_I don't know, Trisha…"_

"_Of course you can go to church with Mom, darling," Anthony said as he came into the room. "_Does it in a different way_?" he mouthed to Emmeline before saying "C'mon, Emmy, let her come."_

"_Don't call me Emmy." Emmeline thought for a moment. "Okay, but then you'll have to be very, very quiet. Don't say a word."_

"_Promise! Can I come now?" Patricia smiled widely at the thought of being allowed into that big building she'd seen so often when they drove by with the car. _

"_Okay, go get your yellow dress."_

"_But why? I don't like that dress." Patricia whined while thinking how hideous the dress was. Her mom had a lot, but a sense of fashion? No. _

"_I know you don't. Get the black one then, and take your shoes along."_

_-----_

"_Maman?" Patricia whispered as discrete as possible after twenty-two and a half minute. She counted. _

"_What is it sweetie? You want another banana?" Emmeline said while digging in her huge purse "Or an apple?"_

"_No, I want to go home."_

_Her mother sighed, smiled and said "It's just a couple of minutes left, and then we will get bread and juice. "_

"_And now," a deep vibrant man's voice said "The Housel."_

_And the Bishop started to hand out small pieces of bread and very tiny-tiny small cups with juice. _

"_Maman?" The kid said while studying her small cup "Why is your juice redder and darker then mine?"_

"_Well," Emmeline said while biting the inside of her lower lip. "Mine is grown-up juice."_

"_And now," the Bishop said with the same pause for effect as before, "the Church coffee."_

"_Maman?" _

"_Yes, what is it sweetie?" Her mom said once again, this time with a small sigh._

"_Do you want church coffee?"_

"_Yes, I want that. You can have as many cookies as you like."_

_They walked into the room with all the cookies and the coffee was and as soon Patricia got the chance she filled her dress pockets with goodies. She walked to a blond boy and gave him her best 'can-we-play-smile'._

"_Hi! What is your name?"_

"_Je m'appelle Fernard." The boy said with a proud look on his face. Everything about him said pride._

"_Are you going to speak French with me all the time?"_

"_Oui?"_

"_Okay, suit yourself, _enfoiré*."

"_PATRICIA!" __She heard an angry voice from across the room._

"_Aw, crap."_

"_Do NOT curse in church! Or any place! We are going home, straight away!" _

"_But he was mean!"_

_She dragged Patricia out to the car and then she started to laugh. _

"_Maman?"_

"_I am not mad, honey. You cursed in the church, but I couldn't laugh at it in front of my catholic friends. Who taught you that word?"_

"_Dad, he talked to a telephone salesman last week. And then he said that word. What does it mean?"_

"_I will tell you when you get older if you promise to not use that word again. But you really said it to him… You're really your father's daughter." Emmeline couldn't help but laugh all the way home. _

-----

"Enfoiré… fuckhead…" Patricia whispered and smiled. It was a word filled with, no, not happiness, but memories. She stepped into the small church and kneeled in front of the big altar.

"What are you doing?" Edward exclaimed when she put her hands together and started mumbling to herself.

"I'm praying. Shut up." The mumbling continued under a couple of minutes before she crossed, said 'amen' and stood up.

Edward, who now bored sat down on a bench, quickly rose from there and asked her if she was ready.

"Well, lucky for you I am, so let's go."

They went out of the church and out on the backyard, which was filled with gravestones.

A graveyard.

Suddenly, Patricia knew where they were going, and possibly why.

"This is why I won't call you Trisha."

---

Song of the day: Bury Me in Black – My Chemical Romance

*enfoiré means fuckhead.


	28. Looking Back

Hi people! Sorry about not updating last week, I was on vacation, didn't have Internet. And if I had, it probably just would've messed with me. I hate Internet on rare occasions.

Okay, August 18th I'll move from where I live now to a bigger city. It will be a lot for me to deal with and I might forget to update. You can always remind me, pretty little button at the end of the chapter. Always works!

Or, if you don't want to review, you'll just have to wait. Nah, now I'm nice. I'll try to remember to update, alright?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters in any way. I only own Patricia, her father, her mother, Belle, Sean and Loraine Lewis and my plot.**

Chapter twenty-eight: Looking Back

A graveyard. A grave. A name.

Trisha Elric.

"Hi mom." Edward sat down beside the headstone. "I brought some company this time. This is Patricia Taylor, a friend of mine."

"Hi, Mrs. Elric," Patricia said.

"Miss. Miss Elric. She never married our father, and besides, call her Trisha. She likes that."

"Hi Trisha," Patricia smiled.

They didn't talk so much. Edward mostly stared emptily at the stone, and Patricia just stood beside him. She knew what it was like to stand in front of the grave of a loved one – a mother – and knew better than to interrupt.

After between five and ten minutes Edward tossed the flowers onto the ground and said that they should get going. Another minute passed by, and they still stood in front of the headstone.

Now Patricia came to think of something right out of the blue. "What about Winry's parents? Where are they?"

Edward furrowed his eyebrows and started to walk the road home, and Patricia followed. "The Ishbalan Massacre," he said after a while.

"The what?"

"The Ishbalan Massacre? You don't know what that is?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't. I haven't even been here a year, remember? I can't know everything…"

"Well, a few years ago – I was five, six something – an Ishbalan child was shot to death by Amestrisian military. The peace between Amestris and Ishbal had been instable for many years, and I guess that was the trigger. A civil war, or massacre, started. Now there's now many Ishbalans left. Scar's one of the few."

Patricia was quiet for a moment before exclaiming "That's horrible!"

"Yeah, I know."

A thought flew to mind. "It's kinda like World War II!"

"Kinda like _what_?"

"A similar war back home, in my world."

"How is it similar?"

"Well… erm… okay, it wasn't that similar at all actually, aside from the genocide kind of thing. Or did you have a guy with a ridiculous tiny mustache who ruled the whole thing from behind?"

"…No."

"Well, then, not at all. There was this German guy, Hitler, see? He had a dream, and he tried to convince a whole nation that what he said was the right thing to do. And the fucked up thing in this is that he made it. He ruled Germany with charismatic words and flattery. It was terrible that people believed him, but it was awesome. I mean, talk a nation into war? However, he said that Jews, homosexuals and black people – among others – were despicable and that they should perish. Like he had any say in that, everyone should be free to be whatever they wanna be or do whatever they wanna do. Anyways, he waged a war with France, my country, and, or, well, originally he conquered Poland, but let's not get stuck in the details. He almost won the war, but then his ally, Japan, attacked America instead of Soviet and… well, the Axis powers lost and Hitler killed himself.

"But before he did that, they had put over _six millions_ Jews to death. And altogether, about sixty-one millions died from all the attending countries between the years 1939-1945, and all because of a German little shit."

After a couple of minutes, the only word worth giving air to was a small "Hm."

"Yes, hm's the right word for all of it. Small, almost non-existent… yes." Patricia said.

"Don't do that!" Edward glared at her.

"Do what?"

"The sarcasm-thingy. I almost bought that this time."

"Hm. I'll try." Patricia smirked.

"You're doing it again!"

"What?"

"You're saying something that isn't necessarily true! You're not even gonna try, are you?"

"Erm… I can't deny or confirm anything at this point."

"See! I told you!"

Patricia smiled a smile which swiftly faded. Then suddenly a smirk spread over her lips. "Do you think he'll be happy if I call him now?" She meant the Colonel, and he knew it.

A similar smirk spread across Edward's lips. "Yes, he's such a morning person after all…"

"Where's a phone?"

"The train station, c'mon!" he shouted through the early morning and started to run.

Patricia ran after him as fast as she could, and caught up with him three hundred feet before the station.

"Damn, you run fast," she panted.

"Yes, I know. But we're here, the phone's right there." He pointed to a booth hundred and fifty feet from where they were standing.

"Hah. D'you have any change?"

"No. Why should I carry around change five o'clock in the morning?" He smirked.

"I don't know. But hand it to me now."

"I just told you that I don't have any!"

"Ah. Men…" She picked up a little change from her pocket. "The Golden Rule: Always have change."

"I thought the Golden Rule was 'do unto others what you would have them do unto you'."

"Then my rule's the silver rule or something!"

"More like brass…"

"Brass? You don't value my rules more than that? Ah, however, move aside." She dialed the number she had on the small piece of paper she'd gotten from the Colonel only a few days ago, she realized. It felt like so much had happened in way too little time and she really didn't know how to handle it.

"Colonel…" The sound of a stifled yawn was heard "…Mustang."

"Hi, Colonel. It's me." Patricia said.

"Who? Mia? Why're you calling this early in the…" Another yawn. "…morning?"

"No, Colonel. Me, Patricia." Patricia almost laughed. He thought that she was one of his girlfriends…!

"Patricia? What the hell… didn't I tell you something about decent times to call?" Now he sounded irritated. "You woke me, actually."

"No! I didn't!" Patricia couldn't resist the urge to laugh. "I'm terribly sorry…! But I thought you wanted to know that I'm--"

Edward took over the phone. "We kidnapped her."

"What?" Mustang sounded terribly tired and awfully annoyed with being awake this long before office hours.

"Stop that!" Patricia said to Edward. She took the phone back and said to the Colonel: "He wasn't entirely wrong. I'm kinda kidnapped, my leg broke and I needed to fix it, and he took me to an engineer here in--"

Edward pinched the telephone again. "You don't need to know that. She's found us and will be home and reporting to you again in three days or so. You won't have to worry, just go back to sleep again and everything will be alright."

"Wh…" The yawning thing started to get irritating. "what…?"

And what did Edward do? Yes, of course, he hung up and let the poor bastard in the other end of the line sit there with the phone in his hands, confused.

"What did you do that for?" Patricia said to Edward.

"For my own egoistical need to get amused every once in a while." He grinned. "I think that auntie Pinako will begin to miss us soon, she gets up pretty early, and we don't want to miss your new leg, do we?"

Patricia groaned. "Yes, we do. I remember when Sean attached my nerves to this thing… That's an experience I'd be happy to not know again."

"Yeah, I know what it feels like," Edward groaned a little too. "But a normal-working leg is better than that piece of shit you have right there, right?"

"…Yeah, I guess." She sighed. "Let's go back, then."

-----

May 27th, Resembool

"Aw, CRAP!" A shrieking scream flew over the town of Resembool. The nerves were now attached to Patricia's new leg. Thank Lord.

"Ah… promise me to never ever again wreck the automail," she sighed.

"Yeah, yeah," Winry told her. "But I'd love to tinker with this one again. It's wonderful…"

After that statement she lectured Patricia about automail and, of course, Winry's personal thoughts and such on them.

And, please, dear Lord, not ever one of those again.

When Patricia was completely fixed up, she tried to stand up, which wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do. She'd just a few days ago adjusted to the old leg, and now she had a new one… Not so very comfortable. Sure, it would take less time to habituate to the new automail, but still… she had a few months with careful walking and so on to do.

"How long time does it take to get home?" she asked Edward.

"Well… there's a train leaving… eleven, I think. We can take that one if you wanna get home early," he answered.

Patricia thought for a moment.

"Eleven… That's in an hour," she said.

"...Yes?" Edward seemed confused.

"And it takes half an hour to get to the station?"

"Considering your condition… it'll probably take forty-five minutes."

"That leaves us with fifteen minutes to call the Colonel."

"Yes."

"Let's do it!"

Edward looked at Patricia as if she was mad. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I haven't had a decent workout in a while!"

"Well, just don't come to me and complain."

---

Song of the day: Stronger – Dead by April


	29. A Man Possessed

Good day, my dear readers. A half-serious chapter this time, a little serious, a little not serious. Great.

Let's get on with it, shall we?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely. **

Chapter twenty-nine: A Man Possessed

"Mental note: never _ever_ do that again."

Patricia, Edward and Alphonse sat in a coupé, panting. Well, at least two out of three were panting, the third one just sat there happy as ever.

"If you ever get that idea again I swear I'll kill you." Edward glared at Patricia.

"What? It seemed great at the moment!" Patricia tried to defend her bad idea.

"Didn't you just mentally note yourself to never ever do it again?"

"…Yes, but that doesn't mean that the idea wasn't good!"

"…No comments."

The run had gone badly. It started out alright, but in the end it just went fucked up beyond all recognition. Patricia fell and hurt her right knee, it bled and looked really nasty, until they realized that they almost was late to the train. A band aid was quickly on its place and the run continued. When they got to the station there had been absolutely no time for a call to the commanding officer, because the train had started to move out from the station already so they had to run to catch up with it too. They had jumped onto the rear car and walked through every car imaginable before they found a seat.

Patricia yawned. First a bad night's sleep, then an automail reattachment, then a devil's run. It was seriously more than enough for one girl to handle in one day.

"Are you gonna sleep?" Edward asked her.

"Yes, so do not disturb me, 'cause if you do, I'll transmute you into something horrible, and I think you know how that'll turn out," Patricia said before half-lying down against the train wall and shutting her eyes.

-----

"Patricia?"

What the heck…? Hadn't she told him to _not_ disturb her, and what was the very first thing he did?

"Patricia, we're in Rush Valley now. We need to get off."

"What the _hell_?"

"We're in Rush Valley."

"Aw," Patricia groaned and sat up. She had slid down during the trip, so she was lying down on the seat, and Edward and Alphonse shared one of the narrow seats, everything so she could sleep.

That's what makes her love them so much.

And such a careful wakeup…! If it had been just three months ago, Edward would've just thrown her off of the seat, if he'd let her sleep at all.

She smiled and the three of them went out of the train and onto the station.

"When… but Rush Valley?" she realized. "Weren't we going to Central?"

"Yes, but this train turn around here, and continue to Dublith. We have to catch another train to get to Central," Edward explained.

"Ah. I get it."

Rush Valley… Then they could go to dinner at Loraine's.

"Boys?" she asked. "D'you wanna eat at a friend of mine's?"

"Does this friend make good food?" Edward countered.

"Yes." Patricia chuckled.

'_You would've eaten anyways_,' she thought.

"Then YES! Of course! Who is it?"

"It's Loraine Lewis."

"The military-hating woman?" Alphonse asked.

"...Yes." Patricia said. Hm. That's not good, now, is it?

"Then how am I gonna eat there? I mean, I'm military! State alchemist, remember?" Edward pointed to himself.

"Of course I remember you're a state alchemist. How am I ever gonna forget? I mean, it's 'Fullmetal alchemist' here and 'Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist' there, and…" Patricia looked up at the ceiling. "I dunno."

"What…?"

"First, how are Alphonse gonna eat? I mean, I can't bring a non-eater to Loraine's table, even if you're not military, Alphonse. And Edward, I don't know how we're gonna do this since you're… well state property."

"I'm no one's property!" Edward yelled.

"Well, I hate to say this, but you actually are. You're obeying the military's every order – under protest though, but the important thing is that you end up doing whatever they wanted you to do in the first place –, you live for the military, and you die for it if it's what it wants. You're the state's property."

Twenty seconds of silence followed.

"Might so be, but…"

"No buts. We're now going to call Loraine, and we're going to eat dinner there."

"I can go to the library and see if there's anything useful there," Alphonse offered.

"…Actually, that's a good idea. I don't mean to…" Patricia said.

"Yeah, I know. It just happens a lot lately." Alphonse looked away. "I'll get going."

And he went away, just like that. The two remaining teenagers looked after him.

"I shouldn't have said anything," Patricia said, blaming herself for Alphonse's state of depression.

"I think he'll be alright," Edward said. "And besides, now we get some research done."

"That's right. No, now I'm gonna call Loraine."

The phone call was quickly finished, with the agreement that they should meet at Loraine's in an hour.

"But what're we gonna do now?" Patricia asked.

"Dunno. Dinner's in an hour and the train's leaving in three…" Edward thought aloud.

"I know!" Patricia exclaimed. "Or, at least what I'll do. You can go and, I don't know, look at automail parts for Winry or something. I'ma call a friend."

"A friend?"

"Yeah. A friend. I met him at the train between Central and Rush Valley. Alexander Osbourne, his name is." Patricia smiled.

"Alexander Osbourne? Sounds like an asshole."

"Stop that! I can meet whoever I want to meet!"

"I know, and I won't stop you. But don't come and complain is he's a rapist or something!" Edward stomped off. "I'll see you in an hour!"

"Yeah, you sure will," she yelled after him. "And besides, Alexander's nice!"

She sighed. What's up with him now?

Ah, nothing to worry about. He would eventually calm down. The positive side about Edward was that his temper didn't last long.

Another phone call and Patricia was on her way to 8 Iron Road. The funny thing about this town was that almost every single street was named after something associated to automail; Iron Road, Joint Lane, Shoulder Street… Terribly weird.

Well, she got there and knocked on the door.

"In a minute!" a voice from inside said.

The door opened after an instant and a familiar face peeked out.

"Hi. You're Patricia, right."

"Yeah, last time I checked. And you are Alexander Osbourne."

"Yes, but it's Alex. I'll not respond to anything else."

"Okay, _Alex_, then it's Trisha for you."

"We have an accord, _Trisha_."

Patricia looked at him. He was tall, five or six inches taller than her, had brown hair and light blue eyes. He had an accent, it would be English in her world, but they weren't in her world, now were they?

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"Yes, of course." He stepped aside and let her into the small, Spartan house.

"It's…" Patricia started to say.

"Not much, I know, but it's enough." He smiled at her.

"I was gonna go with nice, but not much is fine too." Patricia grinned.

"Nice works too. You know what?"

"What?" Patricia looked at Alexander.

"I think I like you. You've got humor."

"I've always heard the opposite," Patricia smiled.

-----

Alexander Osbourne. Alexander Osbourne. Alexander. Osbourne.

_Alexander Osbourne_.

Edward growled. What did _Alexander Osbourne_ have that he didn't have?

The way he walked would have scared any psychologist or therapist on this side of the universe out of their pants.

But no one could blame him. His girl was after all stolen away by _Alexander Osbourne_.

Sorry. His _potential_, possibly _future_ girl rather talked with_ Alexander Osbourne_ than with him.

Grr.

-----

Outside Loraine Lewis's house it was quiet, not at all like the hectic life in the middle of the city. It was a small grey house with coppery green roof and small windows. It was pitiful, really. They had the money to buy a new house, a bigger one since Sean was one of the greatest automail engineers in Rush Valley, but no.

Well, Patricia shouldn't complain. It was after all the house she'd lived in for four months last year.

"Are we gonna go in?" Edward asked.

"Yes, we are. Just… be polite, alright?" Patricia said.

"I'll try," Edward said.

Patricia raised her hand and knocked on the door, which after a moment opened and revealed a brown/grey knot on the top of a familiar head with blue, bright eyes. Loraine Lewis.

"Hello, Patricia! How are you today?" she said.

"Hi, Loraine, I'm great," Patricia replied.

"That's great, but who's your friend?" Loraine asked. "You said that you would bring somebody, but you didn't say who he is."

"Hi, ma'am," Edward said with one of his charm smiles. "My name is Edward Elric, the famous state alchemist."

'_Oh, that's really smart, Edward. You're telling a military-hating old lady that you're in the military. And you're supposed to be a genius._'

"A state alchemist…?" Loraine said and studied Edward closely.

"Yes, ma'am. That's right." Edward fired off another charm smile. "The Fullmetal Alchemist actually, you might have heard of me?"

Loraine giggled a little, she wasn't used to young men charming her like this one did, and calling her 'ma'am'… He had her trapped in a small steel box.

-----

It was eight-thirty p.m. and the train to Central was leaving in half an hour. Edward and Patricia were saying goodbye to Loraine.

"The food was delicious!" Edward said as he went away from the house.

"Patricia… could you wait a second?" Loraine asked.

"Yes, of course. What is it?" Patricia said while motioning for Edward to keep on walking, and that she'd catch up.

Loraine looked at Edward's slowly disappearing back, and then at Patricia, and then at Edward's back again. "He'd make a great husband… or you kids prefer the term 'boyfriend', right?" she said when he was out of hearing range.

"No, I, erm, Loraine!" Patricia stuttered. "He's just a friend, that's all."

"Oh, right. That's the term you youngsters use. 'Just friends', that's bullshit…"

"Loraine!"

"So, so, Patricia. You need to go now, you don't want to miss your train, right?"

"Yeah, I really should get going. Bye!"

"Goodbye, and have my observation in mind!"

God, stubborn old lady.

---

Song of the day: Like a Man Possessed – The Get Up Kids

-----


	30. They're Building a Coffin Your Size

Hi people! Sorry about not updating yesterday, messed with me and I couldn't upload the chapter. But here it is at last, so enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely. **

Chapter thirty: They're Building a Coffin Your Size

"Ah, finally home!" Patricia shouted. "It feels so great! I don't know how you guys make it! I mean, the travelling part is kinda nice sometimes, but home is still the _best_."

"Yeah, yeah…" Edward sighed.

"And now I can walk normally again! I can walk, I can run, I can dance!" She twirled out on the street.

"See I can!" She turned around and saw the terrified look on Edward's face.

"Patricia, look out!"

And before she had time to react she lay on the ground looking up at the many faces that were staring down at her.

"Who is she?" they said. "What happened?" "She got hit by a car, I think."

That's right. A car. Seems… kind of unfair, but consistent with her injuries. Especially one of those they had there in Amestris; big things with growling motors and smelly exhaust.

"Patricia?! Are you okay?" Edward sat down on the ground beside her.

She tried to nod, or at least give him some sort of sign that she was okay, even though she wasn't. Black dots danced before her eyes and she started to feel a little dizzy.

"Patricia! You have to stay awake!" He slapped her. "Stay here on the dirty street, don't fall asleep…!"

Patricia furrowed her eyebrows. Why did he do that? She had no problem staying awake; it was just the fact that the world had started to spin and rapidly darken that scared her a little.

Come back, light!

Come back, sun and stars!

She could hear Edward's voice a few seconds after her eyes closed, but soon the black overwhelmed her and she fainted.

-----

_A young girl, maybe fifteen years old, was dancing in front of Patricia. But she didn't really dance on any floor or such; it was just a big nothing. She spun and spun and spun around until she suddenly stopped with her face towards Patricia. The girl was an exact reflection of Patricia, but when she looked closer a red spot of blood drenching the front of the girl's shirt. _

"_You're dead."_

-----

Patricia opened her eyes and looked straight into a white human shaped substance which was leaning over her.

"Oh dear God, not you again."

She knew where she was. She was back to the place she feared the most, the place where she once took the last goodbye of everything she ever knew.

The Gate.

"What the hell am I doing here?" she asked the 'It' above her.

The It laughed. Oh, how she hated that voice, that small bastard who took away everything she had.

"You now have two choices--"

"Not again!" Patricia moaned and tried to sit up, but her right leg hurt like hell. She somehow managed to look at it and saw that the whole leg was covered in crimson blood.

"What the hell?!" she screamed. "Wh-what have you done to me?!"

The It laughed again. "I didn't do anything, t'was the car that hit you which did something to you."

"Aw, crap," Patricia mumbled. "If I wrecked the automail Winry's probably gonna kill me…" She laid a hand on her left knee and expected to feel cold metal, but only felt warm flesh and bone.

"M-my leg…!" she stuttered. "It's really there…" She looked at the It. "Why's it there?"

"Well, it's there and it's not there, which by the way brings me back to your two choices."

When the It didn't continue Patricia raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, well. Two choices--"

"You really like to say that, don't you?" Patricia said sarcastically.

If the It could glare, it probably would. "Either, I'll send you back with some bumps and bruises…" It got quiet and studied Patricia for a second. "- and probably a broken leg and some cracked ribs judging from how you look – or I'll give you your leg back, but remember that there's a price for everything."

Patricia didn't hesitate.

"I want my leg back!"

"Well, here you go…"

The Gate opened and thin spaghetti-like arms started to wrap around Patricia.

"Wh-what the hell…!"

"Once a year," the It said before Patricia was completely inside the Gate.

'_Just like last time, a familiar feeling…_' she thought before the darkness swallowed her.

-----

The alarm clock rang, followed by a heavy sigh from Patricia. She stretched out a hand to the clock and pressed 'snooze'.

"Trish!" her father yelled from outside her room. "You didn't snooze the alarm right now, did you?"

"No, dad!" she yelled back. "I'm up."

A careful squeak from the door forced her to look that way.

"Mornin' Trisha," her little sister said.

"Dawnie, what're you doin' here?" Patricia turned in the bed.

"I'm waking you up," Isabelle Dawn Taylor said innocently and gave her big sister a reproachful glance.

"I can wake me up myself," Patricia muttered into the pillow.

"No, 'cause then you have no time to eat, and you know how dad gets when you miss breakfast."

"Go away, Dawnie!"

Isabelle sighed. "Don't come and say I didn't warn you…" She closed the door cautiously.

Patricia sighed again, sat up and stuck her feet in the slippers under the bed and went out to the kitchen where Anthony and Isabelle already sat and ate.

"Good morning, sunshine," Anthony said at the sight of his first-born as she sat down across from him.

"Gimme the milk," she stretched her hand out for the carton.

"You know what?" Isabelle asked Patricia.

"What?"

"I met a boy." Isabelle smiled as only a nine-year-old in love can do.

"No, you didn't!" Patricia said with excitement.

"Yes I have. He has these weird yellow eyes and black hair, and he's really cute. He's smart too. We have kinda a study date tonight, and I want you to be there _avec moi*._"

"Study _date_?" Anthony reacted. "Aren't you too young to be dating?"

"I'm nine years old, actually. Everybody can't be as late as Trisha."

"Hey! Do you want me to come or not?" Patricia laughed. "What's this boy's name?"

"James Elric."

Patricia froze. Elric… Now she remembered. A whole year without everything… without Anthony and Isabelle and…

"Do you feel well, Trish?" Anthony asked, concern painting his voice. "You're as pale as a ghost!"

"Actually," Patricia stuttered, "I don't feel too well." That was true. This whole new experience, the going-through-the-Gate-thingy, wasn't really refreshing.

"Do you wanna stay home today? I can tell Mme Segal at the expedition when I get to school that you're sick."

The upside of having a father who teaches physics at your school.

"Do you have any homework? I can talk to your teachers…"

And there it is, the downside of having a father who teaches physics at your school.

"Nah, 's alright, dad. School's out in one and a half weeks; no more homework!" Patricia smiled bleakly.

"You really should go and lay down, baby," Anthony said.

"Don't 'baby' me. I'm not dying, exactly," Patricia said. "But you should get going, you're almost late."

"Oh, that's right. C'mon, Belle. I'll drive you to school today. Bye, Trish!"

"Bye, dad! Bye, Dawnie!"

"Belle!" Anthony shouted before he shut the door. It was a habit of his, since he didn't like that Patricia called Isabelle Dawnie. He said that it was like calling Patricia 'Cherry' or something, but Patricia didn't care. Isabelle was to be called Dawnie, but only by her and no one other. And since Isabelle liked it Antony didn't have a say in the matter.

The door slammed shut and Patricia was home alone. The only thing she could think about was that she was home. She ran to a window, opened it and inhaled the exhaust-filled city air.

"I'm home!!" she screamed so that the world could hear her.

"I'm finally home!!"

---

Song of the day: Mama – My Chemical Romance


	31. Never Too Late

Hi people! An apology is needed, to xXImmortalsxDiceXx. I'm sorry that I couldn't reply to your latest review, tried to tell me that the story wasn't mine. I'm sooorry!

However, the intriguing thing is going quite well, don't you think?

Lastly, I want to thank xXImmortalsxDiceXx and GoddessPhoenix3173 for reviewing all the time. Can't get enough of them! Love you!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely. **

Chapter thirty-one: Never Too Late

Anthony walked through the door to the apartment with a bag from the grocery shop in his arms. He came home to visit his sick daughter, and had brought her favorite ice-cream. Everything for his daughters.

But when he'd gone inside he heard a sobbing sound from the living room. He quickly ran there, and was met by an 'It's okay, Dad.'

He looked at Patricia, his gaze asking.

"I'm watching _Titanic_," Patricia answered the glance. "It's really sad right now, so if you'd…" She looked out into the kitchen, and Anthony nodded.

"Yeah. I'll go away. Come to the kitchen when you're done, baby," he said.

"Don't 'baby' me."

Ten minutes later, Patricia was out in the kitchen.

"What is it?" she asked her dad.

"I've bought your favorite ice-cream, and Robin and Dawn asked me to give you a message," he said.

"Ice-cream!" Patricia went three-year-old on the ice-cream and hugged it, before she realized it was cold and dropped it on the table. "A message? What is it?"

"I quote: 'If she doesn't come to school tomorrow I will kidnap her and take her to Germany, where we will become farmers.' Where Robin got the 'farmers in Germany'-thing I don't know. There aren't even that many farmers in Germany."

Patricia laughed. "That sounds like Robin. What did Dawn say?"

"'Get well soon', basically."

"'Basically'?"

"Erm, well, she used a lot of words and some of them were really long, but the meaning behind them was 'get well soon'."

Patricia laughed again. "And that sounds like Dawn."

"So, what have you done the entire day?"

"I watched _A Cinderella Story_ first, and then _Titanic_."

"Oh. A movie day."

"Yep. I haven't watched a decent movie in a year."

Anthony raised an eyebrow.

"It feels like a year, at least," she quickly added. That was close.

"You watched _A Cinderella Story_ last week."

"I did?" Patricia asked, eyebrows knitted.

"Yes. I'm beginning to think that I need to get you into the mental asylum," Anthony laughed.

"No, I don't. I've gotten that request way too many times the last year."

Anthony looked at her. She was dead serious, which was unusual.

"You're really sick, aren't you?" he asked.

"No," Patricia looked from the corner to her father. "I have to go to school tomorrow, remember? I don't wanna be a German farmer!" She laughed.

"That's right." Anthony smiled. "But I'm gonna get back to work now, wouldn't wanna be late for that."

He looked at her. "You're definitely going to be home tomorrow."

"No!" Patricia exclaimed. "I'd make a lousy farmer, Dad, please!"

Anthony laughed. "We'll see, 'kay?"

"Hrmp." Patricia snorted. "See you tonight."

"See you."

Anthony waved and went out of the apartment again.

Patricia sat in the kitchen for a few minutes.

_I'm beginning to think that I need to get you into the mental asylum_.

If she ever told anyone – even Robin or Dawn, her two best friends – what she'd gone through she'd almost certainly end up in a loony bin somewhere deep inside the deeper jungle of the politic conspiracies.

Ah, no worries. As long as she didn't tell anyone she'd be safe. Right?

Now it was time for another movie. She really hadn't, like she'd told her father, seen a decent movie in a year. It was time for _Forrest Gump_ to show her his better side again.

-----

"Triiiishaa!"

"What is it, Dawnie?"

"Now you're coming with me."

"You're kidnapping me?"

"Yes. We're going to James's, remember?"

Right. James Elric with the weird yellow eyes. James _Elric_. James with the same last name as the boy she'd been hanging out with the last eight months in another world.

James with Edward's last name.

"We're going now!" Isabelle said.

"No! I wanna be sure I look okay first!" Patricia said and rushed away to her closet. She changed quickly after a rapid consideration to a light blue sweater and a couple of casual jeans.

"Now I'm ready. Where does he live?"

"In the other side of town."

"Of course. When do we have to be there?"

Isabelle looked at the watch. "Twenty minutes."

"Putain*," Patricia said.

Isabelle gasped.

"And not a word to Dad. We'll have to take the subway… We might be there in forty minutes, if we're lucky. Let's go."

The trip to James Elric's family's house is something of the most hectic, stressed and awkward trip ever. It contained the following things: almost sitting in the lap of an old man, speaking bad French with the woman in the booth, the conductor, who didn't really believe that they had paid, and a young girl who didn't want to move from her seat of she didn't ask in French. It also contained some awkwardness when Patricia tripped over a man's crossed legs, when Isabelle didn't want to say 'excuse me' to an older lady and when she ran out of change.

It was an exciting trip overall.

When the sisters in the end were in front of the Elric house, they were panting and red-faced.

"Bonjour, Mesdemoiselles," a woman said when she opened. "Êtes-vous Isabelle Taylor et sa soeur?"

"Oui, Mme Elric. Mais ma soeur ne parle pas français bien," Isabelle said. "Elle s'appelle Patricia."

"Oh, I understand," Mme Elric said in almost perfect English. "Come in. James has been waiting for you, Isabelle. He's upstairs."

Patricia just stood there, mouth open. How come Isabelle spoke that much French while Patricia, seven years older, knew almost none?

"Come in, Patricia. I have tea for you, if you'd like some."

"Thank you, Mme Elric," Patricia said, still stunned by her sister's language skills.

They went into the kitchen, a big, light room in the heart of the house.

"Nice kitchen, Mme Elric," Patricia said.

"Thank you. My husband built it a couple of years ago. The previous one was too small for an expanding family." Mme Elric said with a smile.

Patricia looked over to the small table at the corner of the room and studied the pictures on it.

The blonde one in the middle looked way to familiar.

"Say, Mme Elric, is the man in these pictures your husband?" she asked.

"Yes, it is. Edward Elric." Mme Elric came up to her and lifted one of the pictures. "This is him at the school. He's a chemistry teacher there, you might know him, I think that your little sister mentioned that you went to this school."

"Oh, yeah, I do actually. When's he coming home?"

"He's working overtime, but any minute now."

And, as if God had something to do with the whole thing, a voice was heard from the hallway.

"Odette, I'm home!"

"Hi hun, we've got guests!" Mme Elric shouted. "A Patricia Taylor!"

A loud _bang_ was heard, and the hallway got quiet.

"Can you say the last thing again?" he said while walking to the kitchen. "I tripped, and I think it was my positive ear catching the last."

A blonde man slightly below middle-length appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Hello, Patricia. What brings you here?" he said.

"You've gotta be kidding me. You're Edward Elric!"

---

Song of the day: Never Too Late – Three Days Grace

*Putain is still French for the English word 'fuck'

The conversation:

"Bonjour, Mesdemoiselles, (Good day, misses)" a woman said when she opened. "Êtes-vous Isabelle Taylor et sa soeur? (Are you Isabelle Taylor and her sister?)"

"Oui, Mme Elric. Mais ma soeur ne parle pas français bien, (Yes, Mme Elric. But my sister doesn't speak French very well.)" Isabelle said. "Elle s'appelle Patricia. (Her name's Patricia)"

HAH! Suck on that. I'm a kickass at French. (Or not). I only read the language in three years, but with crappy teachers; David Alvarez, Daniel "Norpan" Tanderyd and Maria Gustafsson. They… didn't really teach me much. David just stuffed my head with information, Norpan just… he barely knows the language, and he raped the French grammar. Maria was WAY too nice. No homework, nothing. The only teacher who has taught me anything at all is Astrid. Sis isn't too fond of her, but I actually like her.

She gave me an A.


	32. Memories Fall like Rain

SORRY! I didn't update yesterday :'( No good, no good at all. In the middle of a move and so on...

Thank you, everyone who reviewed! I love you all!

LookOutShe'sGotAPen, Neko Berry-chan, GoddessPhoenix3173, xXImmortalsxDiceXx, BlackStar-F, Marionette Mia, Zenna95.

Thanks a bunch!

And happy bithday to me! I turn sixteen this very day.

Now to the chapter:

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely. **

Chapter thirty-two: Memories Fall like Rain

"You've gotta be kidding me! You're Edward Elric!" Patricia cried.

"Yes, I am. I am also your chemistry teacher." Edward replied.

"No you're not… oh that's right," Patricia said. This was a great opportunity to talk to him. Provided that it's the same Edward Elric she knew in Amestris.

"Erm… I… hm…" Patricia desperately tried to come up with something, "Enchant? Yeah, that's right. Enchant. I have an assignment, remember? Ancient alchemy? You promised that you'd--"

"An assignment? Enchant?" Edward blinked a couple of times. Was it really…?

"Yes, the chemistry… thingy," Patricia said and looked at him, implying 'can we talk?'.

"Of course… let's... My office." Edward pointed to a room down the hall.

"Yes." Patricia followed him there. He was noticeably older than the last time she'd seen him. Last time, he'd been sixteen years old, now he probably was thirty-five something.

"You've gotten taller," she said.

He laughed. "Yes, I'm taller."

A heavy silence. Patricia looked at him. Yes, it was still the same person, only older and taller.

"What are you doing here?" Patricia asked. "You're…"

"In your world, yes, I noticed," he said and looked down at the floor.

"What happened?"

"Long story."

"Well, my sister and your son probably don't mind a long story."

"That's true." Edward smiled. "They seem fond of each other."

"Yeah."

The room went quiet for a moment, before Edward broke it by saying

"The whole thing started when you died."

"What…? I… I didn't die! I just…"

"I didn't know. I had absolutely no idea what happened. You got hit by that car, and you died."

"The how did you…"

"If you just shut up, I'll tell you."

"I hope that you don't talk like that at school."

"You don't know, right? You have no idea, none at all?"

"No! I just woke up today in my own bed. I think that the Gate-thingy sent me through again. Oh, God, I hate that."

"I can imagine. It sent me through too, fifteen years ago."

"It did? You died too?!"

"Just lemme tell, okay? You died in that car crash, and I was so stupid… I tried to take you back. I figured that since you weren't from Amestris to begin with, you might still be inside that Gate somehow. I seriously thought I'd succeed, but we all see how that ended." He snorted.

"I didn't even let Al know. He still thought I only searched for our bodies. I feel terrible now. I lied to him, and I didn't even… I thought I'd get you back, and our bodies back… A fucking happily ever after was too much for me to ask for.

"I did precisely as I should've done, but there was something wrong about it. I ended up here, well not literally here, but in the United States of America, in a city called Los Angeles."

"No, seriously!? You were in LA?" Patricia said.

"Yes, but not in the Los Angeles you see on TV."

"Oh." Patricia knitted her eyebrows.

"Yeah. I was lucky, it was neutral area, I wasn't in the middle of any gang fights or something. A couple of polices picked me up and asked me what I was doing there. They also asked me what the hell I was wearing.

"I quickly learned the rules of the streets, but soon I got a few jobs done and earned some money. After three years or so I bought myself a car, after getting a fake driver's license, passport and a past. According to the police files I'm caught for assault."

"No!" Patricia exclaimed.

"Yes. I look pretty dangerous, I've heard, so I needed to have done something. However, I bought a car, a pretty crappy one, an old Ford, and started to drive around through the States searching for you. After a couple of years, someone gave me a world map. I had realized that America was big, but the whole world…! I mean, you have a lot of lands, and to that a lot of people.

"I went to Russia, 'cause I had no idea where to go. I stayed there for a couple of months, and then I left. The language there… I didn't understand a shit. So I went to Spain, to Barcelona. Well there I remembered that the country I was looking for was named France, to be precise its capital Paris.

"I went here in… 1996 I think. In 1997 I met Odette, she was, and still is, an artist. I thought she could help me to draw a picture of you, to make it easier to look for you, I mean. She gave me a phone number, which I called and… well, in 1998 we got married, and in 1999 James was born." At this part Edward smiled.

"But in 1998," he continued, "I saw you."

"You saw me?" Patricia asked.

"Yes."

"When?"

"I was getting there. You really need to calm down. You have problems with listening to people, right?"

"…No."

"Yes, you do. However, I saw you in a supermarket; I was going to buy some milk…"

"Milk? I thought you disliked it," Patricia pointed out.

"I know. I kind of noticed. I do, but Odette needed some… Anyways, I saw a small girl, five and a half years old with black hair and grey eyes, along with a pretty tall, black haired, green eyed woman. You looked at me, then at your mother, then at me again, and then you asked your mother if you could have a cookie. She said no, and you asked why 'the man over there has so weird eyes'. I was a little hurt, actually. You mother said that it was very rude to say such things, and then I went over to you and your mother. I said to you that some people just have yellow eyes. You said that you hadn't seen yellow eyes before, and asked me why I had them.

"I said that it runs in the family, and your mother thanked me. She asked my name, and I said 'Edward Elric' and looked directly at you. You didn't even flinch.

"I followed you home, at a distance--"

"You stalked me!?" Patricia called out.

"No. I followed you home. I did _not_ stalk you."

"Yes you did. When someone follows someone else home, or anywhere else for that matter, in a distance on purpose, it's called stalking." Patricia said.

"Okay, I _stalked_ you. Happy? " Edward said.

"No. That sounds… wrong. "

"Okay, I followed you, and I found out where you lived. I watched over you the following six years or something, just to make sure you didn't get into any trouble, and then I kind of gave up. I started teaching at a school, and just last year, poof!, as out of thin air, there you were. I couldn't get rid of you. I spent this whole year trying to get you to understand that I've met you before.

"I had a special lesson about alchemy, I practically yelled 'enchant' in your face, but you had no idea what I was talking about. I could've grabbed your shoulders and shake you. I was so frustrated with you.

"And then one day you stand in my kitchen and try to tell me that you remember it all. Don't blame me if I'm confused."

"Well, I'm kinda confused too," Patricia said. "I got ran over by a car, I got sent through the Gate, I wake up in my own bed, fifteen years old again, and I have lost an entire year. Trust me; I'm the confused one here."

"Hm. Let's say we're both confused," Edward suggested.

"Deal."

No, shit. Shit way beyond recognizable state.

"What date is it?" Patricia asked.

"Erm… 9th June, why?"

"If I've counted correctly, I'll die in a week."

Patricia curled up in fetal position in the chair. She was going to die in one week, if everything added up correctly, she was going to die. Die, for a third time. What would happen this time? Would she come to the Gate, or had she consumed all of her chances? Was it just death and whatever beyond it left for her? Or would she be ripped out of her world again and simply thrown into Amestris again, and either a) continue where she left it, or b) be forced to start all over again?

"Patricia…" Edward tried to comfort her in the best way possible. "I promise that we'll do everything to prevent it, okay?" He rubbed soft circles on her back as she hid her head between her knees.

"You were home the last time, right? If you go out, go and have some fun with Robin or something instead, you'll probably not…" He interrupted himself when he saw that her shoulders shook with strangled sobs.

"It's gonna be okay, Patricia, everything will be all right…"

---

Song of the day: Too Easy – One Republic


	33. This is How the Story Ends

Hi people!

A note: This is NOT the end of the story, despite the name of the chapter.

Thanks to everyone who review! Ohmygod, I don't know how I can thank you enough. Love you all!

Anyways, read and enjoy.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely. **

Chapter thirty-three: This is How the Story Ends

It was Tuesday the tenth of June and Patricia's first day at school in an entire year. It was nice getting back into old habits again.

She had sent a text to her best friends Robin and Dawn earlier that morning and told them that they were going to meet at a café called 'Chez Valérie', which was conveniently enough situated across from the school.

She said goodbye to Anthony and went to school. Isabelle walked with her a few blocks, but then she had to go a different direction. Isabelle was a smart kid – a _really_ smart kid – and went to one of those smart-kid schools in the middle of the French capital. Those schools were French-only, and barely taught English in the English language. That's probably why she was so good at French, Patricia thought.

Well, it's not hard to be good at the language in which you're taught almost everything you know, right?

Patricia, on the other hand, went to an English- speaking school. She hadn't set foot in a smart-kid school ever, and probably wasn't going to either. Sure, she was pretty smart, but not nearly as smart as _those kids_.

She wouldn't have kept up anyways, since she was no good at all at French. She barely could say hi. She hated not being good at it, but still she made no effort at all to learn it. Why? She didn't know. She didn't know, and probably would never ever know. It was just one of those things she didn't want to learn.

Step after step Patricia made her way towards the tiny café. She was so excited. She hadn't seen either Robin or Dawn in a whole year. A _whole year_.

She had done pretty well without them, but in her darkest moments she could do nothing other but to miss them. The spontaneous, funny Robin Cantrell and the smart, careful Dawn Marshall.

Both lovable, both missable.

But it was nice, to meet them again. They both had the characteristics any best friend should have, but also characteristics that seemed to be sewn just for the friendship with Patricia. The best friends a girl could have.

She went into the café and sat down beside one of the small tables there. For a split second she considered to not buy coffee for them for once, but decided to do it anyways. They sort of had an agreement: the first one to the table orders. Pretty smart agreement, as long as one of them made it to the café first.

She sat down for about two minutes and forty-seven and a 1/3 seconds when a small, fat waiter came in. He spoke something in random French, something that she didn't understand.

"Pardon," she said in the worst French she could squeeze out of herself, "Tourist, come from…Mongolia."

"No order, no sit!" he repeated, now in a more understandable language.

"Aw, come on, man! I've been here for like a minute! I just got through the fried part of the menu!"

That totally came out wrong.

"Not clear? No order, no sit!"

"Fine! One, uno, un, ein, cup of tea," she said while holding up a very annoyed finger. "Two," she said, now holding up two fingers, "dos, deux, drei, cups of black coffe. Noir, negro, not brown. Am I making myself clear?"

The waiter, who had just nodded and taken notes all the time, glared at her and said: "Anything else, mademoiselle?"

"Yes! Deux croissants and a few of those fried cheese balls. Please."

The waiter gave her a look.

"Uno, un, ein, en, ichi, one. Cheese," she imitated a cow, "balls." She gave him thumbs up. There was no chance in the world that she was going to do anything else associable with that word.

"Got that," he said and walked away.

"Don't expect me to leave you tip!" she shouted after him.

After a few minutes her friends came talking and laughing through the door. Both of them had blonde hair, but Robin had blue eyes and Dawn had brown. Their personalities were total opposites of each other. Robin was outgoing and didn't really seem to care about school so much, and Dawn was more of the shy, studying kind.

And they fitted so wonderfully together. If Robin hadn't been gay, Patricia probably had played matchmaker and gotten the two of them together and going out within a year.

That brought her thoughts back to the time Patricia and Robin met Dawn. Dawn had been the new kid at school, newly flown in from Oxford, England. She was one year younger than Patricia and Robin, but that didn't stop them. Robin had decided to mess with her, and so that it was said, it was done.

He had walked over to her, called her 'gorgeous' and asked her out for a date. Just an imaginary date, of course. Nothing was going to happen. And what did the poor thing say? Dawn, the all-socializing genius, had said that she was going to study and that she didn't have permission from her parents.

Patricia had broken into the conversation by that point, told Dawn that it was all a prank, and to their big surprise, Dawn had laughed. It wasn't what they'd expected from the new kid.

In that moment they realized that she was special. From that day on, the three of them had almost always been together.

Until the day Patricia died, naturally.

"Chérie!" Robin called out as he approached his best friend.

"Darling!" Patricia hugged him tightly.

"Hi, Trisha," Dawn said in her soft voice.

"Hello, Dawn!" Patricia embraced her a little more careful, afraid that she would break if she squeezed too much.

"Ohmygodhowareyou!?" Robin screamed in her face.

"Ohmygodwhattheheckdidyousay?" Patricia said in one breath.

Robin took a deep breath before repeating himself. "How are you, darling?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"Dude, you were totally dying yesterday."

"If she was dying yesterday, I don't think that she would be here right now, at this very moment," Dawn said in her own personal shy-but-still-smart-kind of way.

"Dawn, I get that," Robin said. "Are you ready to become a farmer in Germany or are you actually coming to school today?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm actually coming to school today. It's a miracle, I mean… I don't know, but it's good, I think." Patricia laughed at her own lack of vocabulary.

"Okay, the first sounded a little weird, that you're coming to school and all, I mean without_ having to_. You have your father wrapped around a finger, and you could've stayed home today too," Robin reasoned, "but then we'd have to become farmers, and I don't think I'd like that so very much. But the end, the _confused_ end, you sounded more like the Trisha I know."

"…Is it just me," Dawn said, "or did that make absolutely no sense at all?"

"It's not just you, I promise," Patricia said.

They sat down just as the food came in.

"No! You ordered a plate of those fried cheese balls for me!" Robin exclaimed. "You're my bestest friend of all the bestest friends I have!"

"I know that. Next to Dawn, of course. She's nicer than me," Patricia coughed out, almost unable to breath as Robin hugged her like there was no tomorrow.

-----

The rest of the week went on just like any other week in June of 2008. It was fun for Patricia to live where she hadn't lived in a year, to actually see everything with her own eyes instead of just looking into the old memory of the world she knew.

It was the 16th of June and Patricia was terrified. This was the very same night she'd died before.

The night wasn't like the night a year ago, now the whole family were out and celebrating Anthony's promotion. He'd gone from just an ordinary teacher with just below average salary, when all of a sudden he had become vice principal. No one had expected anything of the sort.

So now Anthony, Patricia and Isabelle were eating at a fine Italian restaurant somewhere in the middle of Paris. They'd come about half through their meal when a black haired man busted through the door.

"Everybody down on the floor!" he called out.

Patricia stared at him. It was him. It was _him_.

The man looked directly at her. "You don't belong here. I'll send you back to the place you came from…"

"No…" Patricia couldn't breathe.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a gun.

'_Just like back then_,' Patricia thought. She was frozen, standing stiff at one spot unable to move.

"Patricia?" her father asked, his voice trembling. "Who is this man?"

She couldn't answer him. She had no idea at all. Who was this man, so eagerly hunting her down, wanting so badly that she'd stay dead? Or stay in the place beyond the Gate?

"No!" Patricia screamed. She had no time to think, when her legs finally obeyed her orders again she ran away from the raised gun in the man's hand. She ran, ran, ran, but only made it a few meters before the sound of a firing bullet crashed through the room.

And she fell to the floor, bullet lodged in the same place as the year before, dead in the heart.

"Somebody call an ambulance!"

"What happened?"

"Mommy… what's wrong with that girl?"

"Patricia!"

Every single person in the entire restaurant stood in a circle around the place where she lay between two tables.

"Give her some room!"

"Trisha!"

"Where did he go?"

"He ran away… call the ambulance! She needs help!"

All she could see was blurred faces leaning over her, someone who had their mouth over her and blew hot air into her lungs.

"Keep the girl away from there!"

A low mumbling came from everyone in the narrow circle, but she couldn't hear anything. Everything was quiet, just like at most movies when the hero's relative goes into surgery. No sound at all, not even the trademark violin music when someone dies.

Just an excruciating pain in the middle of her chest.

Her eyes watered with tears.

"I'm sorry… Dad, Dawnie. I'm…" _I'm leaving again, but I'll come back again._ She had no air left in her lungs, she couldn't talk, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't…

Live.

---

Song of the day: Sk8er Boi – Avril Lavigne


	34. Half of My Nerdiness Comes From You

New chapter, people. And a quote added, by my lil' sis. Nice one, fits the story real well, especially with the things that happens in this chapter.

Well, read on!

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter thirty-four: Half of My Nerdiness Comes from You

A kind darkness, a warm body between soft sheets. Breathing. Oxygen in, oxygen out. Face twitching. Eyebrows knitting. A heavy weight over her chest.

'_Oh my god, I'm having a stroke! I'm gonna die!_'

Patricia opened her eyes, convinced that she was going to have trouble breathing, chest pains or something like that, but…

Instead, all she saw was a blonde braid with a belonging arm over the thinnest part of her waist.

Hm. Not exactly what she'd expected. However, it was better than dying.

But what was she going to do about it? Edward lay over her, the clock was God knew how much and, where was she?

She inhaled deeply. The air, it was something about it, something… wrong.

The smell of machines, different anesthetics, some cheap cleaning devices and that annoying sound…

Hospital. Wonderful. What the heck did she do there?

Edward moved. He hugged her waist as he woke up, dragged the arm towards him and rubbed his eyes with the other. He laughed a little to himself when he realized how he'd been sleeping and looked up at her and saw…

Open eyes and a light flinch.

"Patricia! You're awake!"

"Yeah, I…" Patricia said, voice raspy. "I sorta noticed."

"You've been asleep, in coma, for a week," he enlightened her.

"A week?" Patricia whispered. "A week? No, I… I just dreamt the weirdest things… I"

"A week. A week, Patricia. You've… I've…"

"What time is it?"

"About… half past six."

"P.m.?"

"A.m."

Half past six. 6:30. Hm.

"Water?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, here." He handed her the glass of water she'd longed for.

The room fell in silence when she drank.

"You want more?" he asked when the water ran out.

"No, I'm fine."

Silence embraced them over again. Neither one of them knew what to say. It became heavier and heavier, and in the end, Patricia could do no other than to fall asleep again.

----

"But she was awake, I swear! I saw it myself!" Patricia heard an upset voice say through a thick mist.

"Yes, was it the finger that twitched this time? Or was it her eyelid?" A voice that probably belonged to a nurse said sarcastically.

"No, she was awake! I talked to her and gave her water!" The mist started to clear out and she could see Edward and a short, fat nurse with her arms crossed over her chest. Patricia coughed and the nurse turned around.

"Oh, hello sweetie, you are awake! How are you?"

"Thirsty." Patricia whispered with the same rough voice as earlier and coughed again, harder this time.

"Of course, sweetie, just wait a second and I'll get something. What do you want, orange juice, water…?" But the woman was interrupted by Patricia coughing like a maniac and Edward who pushed her away and started to pour up water while saying:

"If you hadn't had a drink in a week, what would you take? She's coughing her effin' lungs out!"

"I think I've handled more coma cases than you had, kid, and if you don't mind stop playing doctor, I would like to check how she's doing now!" The nurse talked-screamed in his face.

"I think I know what's best for her. Now I'ma go get her some jelly, because I know that she loves that! And she needs the sugar," he yelled and then smashed the door against the nurse's face.

"Sorry," Patricia said with her rugged voice. "He gets kinda cranky when he hasn't had his twenty hours of beauty sleep."

The nurse raised an eyebrow.

"You don't say…!" she said and began to check all the beeping machines that surrounded Patricia.

"These look… normal," the nurse muttered to herself. "And this one… a little too low, but nothing crucial at this point…"

After endless minutes of muttering nurses and general boredom, Edward came back carrying a tray with three glasses with different color fluids in them and three cups of jelly in three colors.

"I didn't really know what you wanted, so I took it all." He pointed to the three cups of jelly. "The green one's apple, the red one's strawberry and the yellow one is lemon. I have orange juice, apple juice and water too, if you'd rather want that."

Patricia smiled. This is why she liked him; he was so sweet at times. "Thank you, Edward. That's very kind of you."

Edward smiled unsurely, placed the tray at the small table on wheels in a corner and rolled the table until it was just over the place on Patricia where he'd slept before.

"Thanks," Patricia said and took a spoon and the yellow jelly cup. It tasted of artificial lemon, but it was better than not eating anything.

The fat nurse just looked at Patricia, sighed and went out of the room, leaving Edward sitting at the chair next to the bed.

"So… you said you'd dreamed weird dreams?" Edward asked carefully.

"Yeah… really weird. And the weirdest thing is that I think it was… true, that it really did happen." Patricia let her voice die out.

That it really happened.

"Edward Elric!" Patricia screamed. "Don't you ever, _ever_ do that again! Now I'm angry at you!"

"Patricia…? What…?" Edward said.

"You...! You…! Argh!"

"Patricia…?"

"No! Don't speak. Go… away for a moment, go pee or something, and come back in five minutes. By then I've calmed down."

"O-okay…" Edward said with a hesitant glance at Patricia. "I'll… go now…"

"Yes!"

Edward didn't say anything more. He just went out of the room the same way as the fat nurse.

Patricia swallowed and took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. It didn't help much, actually, nothing at all.

How could he have been so… so _stupid_? He knew what was going to happen, he knew the consequences, but still he… he…

He'd tried to bring her back.

How… the… _ohmygod_.

Patricia sobbed. Stupid, selfish, egoistical, silly, dense, foolish, daft, obtuse, dull…

Edward came back in after exactly five minutes with a questioning look on his face. Patricia had calmed down a whole lot, and it showed. She seemed more at peace and willing to explain.

"I am still mad at you," she said and started to eat her green jelly.

"Yeah, and I still don't know why!" he snapped and looked at her with his brows down over his yellow eyes. She looked at him for a second and sighed.

"'Thou shalt not commit the greatest taboos of all. Amongst thee is the Human Transmutation and if thy perpetrate it thou shalt suffer'," she quoted directly from Edward himself. He sat down on the chair next to her bed and continued to listen.

"I don't want you to suffer. I want you to live a long life with your brother and a beautiful wife and a gazillion kids. When I was in coma… I was back in Paris, and guess who was in Paris more than me? Yes, you."

He remained quiet.

"I woke up at the Gate and this dude says that I've two choices, and the second option included that I would not have to carry around a piece of metal instead of a leg. I chose that option, and I woke up in Paris, one week before my death.

"I met you there, and you'd been searching for me for sixteen years. But you gave up and started your own life on a safe distance to keep an eye on me or something. You had a wife, a kid, a job, a house, a wide screen TV …"

"Wait, what did you said I had?"

"A television?"

"No, that before. The wife-and-kid part?" Edward had his chin down to the floor.

"Yeah," she smiled, "a really cute son named James and a beautiful wife named Odette. And you lived in a house a bit from Paris, and you worked as a science teacher. Wait… Edward! Back to the point! You tried to bring me back!"

Edward, who obviously had shut down his ears after 'science teacher', just stared out in space and smiled like a three-year-old who had just gotten a hundred gallons of soap bubbles.

"Hello, Edward. EDWARD!" He jumped sky high. "Get my clothes and I'll show you something."

"Wha-wha-what?"

"Please, Edward. I am too tried to explain. Go get it."

'_If it even worked.' _

Before she'd been shot at the restaurant she'd been stuffing things in her pockets; a few photographs, a little note about her family – information about her grandmothers, grandfathers, cousins, uncles, aunts, sister, mother and father – and a small note on who she was and why she was there if she was going to lose her memory again. She'd hoped that they would magically appear in her pockets in Amestris if she ever went there again.

Edward soon came back with her clothes in a tiny sterile bag.

"Here," he said.

"Can you check the pockets? See if there's anything there?" Patricia asked.

"Yeah, sure." Edward started to rummage the bag.

'_Please, let my stuff be there_,' she thought. '_Please, dear Lord…_'

"Hah!" Edward exclaimed as he held up a bunch of papers. "But what is it?"

"Notes. I took notes like an idiot and I looked like a squint." Patricia said while Edward started to look trough them. "And I took photos of my family and…"

"My son." He had that smile again. "And my wife."

"Yes. But you are still a crazy and stupid motherfucker," she said and smiled. "You tried to bring me back, and you left Alphonse in the lurch. All alone. But I will die again, once a year. That's the pay for my leg. But I would probably do the same thing for you." The room went quiet as she reached for her last jelly.

---

Song of the day: No song today. Sorry!


	35. You Do what You Do

Hi people! Once again, a new chapter is submitted to FFnet. Good? Well, for me, at least. And for the ones who actually like it. (love you!)

Well, let's get on with the chapter, shall we?

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter thirty-five: You Do What You Do

Finally. After five days in the hospital for 'observation', Patricia was finally discharged. A wonderful feeling, to have been gotten rid of. Hah, gotten rid of. It was probably a relief for the nurses, who had to run all over the place to please the slightly cranky Patricia.

But still, an incredible feeling to be out of that place.

Limping home on two crutches, Patricia wondered if she ever, _ever_, would get to walk around without the noise-making, blister-giving and generally annoying wooden sticks.

A heavy sigh was suppressed when she suddenly recalled something.

Hm.

Alexander Osbourne, the guy she'd met on the train between Central and Rush Valley and later in Rush Valley, had moved from Rush Valley to Central. She'd promised that she'd help him to move all his things, but that hadn't been done since she'd been, well, in coma for a week.

Now, she had to call him and apologize and such. Not the very thing Patricia wanted to do at that moment. Darn it. She sighed, picked up the phone and dialed the number.

_Beep…beep…beep…beep…beep…_

She was just about to hang up when a breathless voice answered.

"He-Hello? Alexander here."

"_Who is it?" _A woman in the background asked, and she sounded as breathless as he was.

"Uh," was her genius response, "I'm… Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Alexander swallowed, "Who is…" He was cut off from the woman voice.

"_Aw, Alex, come back to the bed. We aren't done yet."_

Oh shit. Patricia could feel her cheeks redden, and she hung up. This was by far the most embarrassing moment of her life.

She was stunned. What was she going to do? That was awkward. Awkward squared to the power of ten times four.

But what was she going to do now? If they really were… doing what she thought they were doing she should probably just never talk to him again, alternatively pretend that she never called and… and… and…

Hm. That just made it harder, didn't it? Deciding… the one and only thing that always, without exceptions, mad things harder, especially when the wrong decisions are made and there's simply no way to make them undone in a way…

Aw crap. Not she was letting her thoughts wander, and that was never good either. Always led to difficult situations.

But what was she going to do?

No more time to wonder. The telephone rang with a shrill signal.

"Hello?" Patricia answered.

"Patricia?" an unmistakably familiar voice said.

"Erm… that's me, yes," Patricia said reluctantly.

"Was it you… of course it was you," Alexander said. "I mean, was it you who called?"

"Erm… yes, I guess it was."

"You have some explaining to do," he said matter-of-factly.

"Well so do you!" Patricia said. "What were you doing when I called?"

"I… I was moving furniture, why?"

"Moving furniture, is that what it's called over here? To me, it sounded like you and your girlfriend was getting… worked up!"

"What? My girlfriend? Wh-what are you talking about?"

"'Aw, Alex, come back to the bed. We aren't done yet,'" Patricia mimicked.

"If you must know, we were moving furniture, as I said, and she's not my girlfriend. It's my…cousin! She lives here and she came to rescue me from a mountain of furniture when you were absent! Where were you?" he quickly changed the subject.

"Me? I was, well, this is gonna sound like a bad excuse, but I was kind of in coma," Patricia laughed nervously.

After a short pause, he said: "In coma?"

"Yes! As I said, I know it sounds like a bad excuse, but… It's a true story! I swear! I was run over by… someone, and then I, well, dreamed a lot and then I woke up five days ago!"

He just laughed. "It sounded really bad for a moment there… but I think I believe you. I mean, it's kinda hard not to after that explanation. I suppose you want to help here now, since you're calling?"

"Well, actually, no. I have a hard time walking right now. The car demolished my leg. The right one," she finished.

"A coma, a demolished leg… you planned this, didn't you?"

"N-no! I couldn't—"

"I know, just messing with you. So… the reason you called?"

"I wanted to tell you the highly improbable reason why I couldn't help you. Simple as that," Patricia said.

"So… you wanna meet." He almost made the statement sound like a question, but only almost.

"I guess. Can you come over? I have a little to talk to you about."

"Well… yes, I guess I can."

A few questions and an address later he was on his way over to the apartment.

"Aw, crap," Patricia said. Now she was going to have to get up from her very, very comfortable couch and make coffee. She played with the thought to let him do it himself for a few moments, but discarded it quickly. She was too well-mannered and polite to do that. But if he wanted cookies, he'd have to make them himself.

Exactly at the very moment she sat down on the couch again the doorbell gave away its desperate plinking sound, declaring that Alexander was there.

Sighing, she once again got up from the very, very comfortable couch and went to answer the door. She double-checked – a habit she'd developed after the vacuum-cleaner salesman incident – before she opened, half-expecting it to be this world's Roy Mustang. She was relieved to see no one other than Alexander.

"Hi," he greeted. "I brought cookies. I thought you'd like them." He showed her a small package.

"Well, that's great. I have coffee in the kitchen… come in," Patricia stepped aside to let him in.

When he saw the whole packaged leg, he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. "You were really run over by a car. I almost thought it was a joke."

"Hey! I don't joke about things like that!" Patricia said, contradictorily enough with a smile on her lips.

They went into the kitchen and sat down by the too small table on an odd chair each, all in complete silence.

"Well," Alexander began "It's certainly awful weather outside." He said in an accent she recognized. In the world she was used to it would be English, but what about Amestris? Did they have England too?

Patricia couldn't do anything but laugh. "Englishmen…"

"Excuse me?" He said and looked very shocked. "What did you say?" But they never came further because a small, blonde Edward was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

"And who the fuck are you?"

---

Song of the day: Chill – The Rasmus


	36. Her Heart is Breaking in Front of Me

Hi! Oh my gosh, I've gotten quite a few new favorites (yay!), and I love you for that!

Well, sorry for not getting this up yesterday. Four hours of bus makes no one want to update at eleven pm. Sorry!

Well, see ya later?

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter thirty-six: Her Heart is Breaking in Front of Me

"Who the fuck are you?" Edward said when he saw that Alexander Osbourne was drinking coffee in his kitchen.

"Brother! Don't curse at the nice man!" Alphonse said and looked at the Alexander and said nervously and almost too fast. "Hi, I am Alphonse who are you?"

"Well, the proper sentence would be 'Hi, my name is…' well, whatever your name is. 'What's your name?'" Alexander said cockily and stood up facing Edward, which actually was a quite funny scene, because Alexander was at least a decimeter taller than him.

"Edward, Alphonse, this is Alexander Osbourne," Patricia tried to save the situation. "He's a friend, be polite to him. Alex, this is Edward and Alphonse Elric. Edward's a state alchemist, and Alphonse is the nicer of them."

"Oh, nice to meet you!" Alexander said and stretched out a hand as a greeting, which clearly wasn't working well. Edward simply stared at the hand, while Alphonse politely enough shook it slightly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm visiting a friend, what are you doing here yourself?" Alexander replied.

"I live here! I can be here as much as I want to!"

"You live with him, Trisha?" Alexander said and looked over at her.

"That's true Alex, he lives here and pays a part of the rent," Patricia confirmed.

"Alex? Trisha? You have nicknames?" Edward said affronted. "You don't even call me Ed."

"I know that. That's only because you don't call me Trisha," Patricia said.

"You know why I don't wanna call you that!" Edward said, angry.

"Yes, I do! But it's equivalent exchange after all, you should know!"

"Am I… interrupting something?" Alexander asked somewhat confused.

"No!" Edward and Patricia said in unison.

"Who wants coffee!?" Alphonse threw in, but he was useless and ignored.

"No worries then!" Alexander exclaimed. "Let's get outta here, Trisha. I can't handle this… this twit any longer."

"Who're you calling a grain of rice that barely fits underneath your shoes?!?!"

"I never said that!"

"_Please_, the both of you! Stop fighting!" Patricia said.

"No!" Alexander and Edward said.

"Well, why don't you just put 'em on the table and measure them! And you can do that anywhere that's not here!" she screamed and pointed at the door.

"My house," Edward said, but he didn't look as cocky anymore. Alexander just stared, and Patricia put her head in her hands.

"Please, just go. Edward, back for dinner and Alex…I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Right. See you later, Trisha."

"No! You're kicking me outta my own house and then expect me to come home to dinner?! I don't think so."

The both boys stormed off in their own tempo, one furiously and one slowly, as if nothing bothered him. Edward almost ran and Alexander just went on as if nothing happened.

Patricia sighed. Why couldn't her life ever be uncomplicated, easy, plain and simple? One of them, she might like as more than a friend, the other she only found as nice company.

But which boy was which? Sometimes it was hard to tell.

"Patricia?" Alphonse's concerned voice asked. "What are you going to do about Ed?"

"For now, I'll just let him be. I'm so tired, Alphonse," Patricia said.

"Then go to sleep. You need it, seeing as you just got out of the hospital. You need any help?"

"Nah, I'll be fine, thanks. I'll… see you later?"

"Yes. I'll go and do some research at the library now, see if Ed's there," Alphonse said and waved as goodbye.

"'Bye."

She hadn't lied to Alphonse. She was tired, more tired than she would willingly admit. The fight between her friends, the heavy leg, the whole new experience of having a leg in flesh and bone, the feeling of having just gotten out of the hospital and a few hundred other things. It was difficult to handle all the new things, the new apartment she shared with Scieszka, Edward and Alphonse, her leg, the hospital visit, Alexander Osbourne, the fight, all the brooding after the week back in Paris, everything.

But she would get through it somehow. She knew she would. She always did. She'd learned how to put the bad things aside and set the positive thoughts, memories and experiences first.

Learned how to make the ones around her happy before she worried about herself. Let them reach their goals when she sat at the bottom of the ladder of success, applauding at them.

"Good job, you made it. Me? No, I don't need any help. I'm fine. I'll do this myself."

The way the world of Patricia Taylor worked.

The sad truth, but please recall that the sad, horrible, heart-ripping, soul-tearing truths often is the truest of them all.

The way the real world works.

No, no more room for such sad, horrible, heart-ripping, soul-tearing thoughts anymore. Patricia shook her head violently to clear her head. What had made her mind wander like that? Was it the maze of love, the labyrinth of friendship, and the fact that the both of them are way too often entwined in each other, impossible to figure out?

Nah, that couldn't be it.

Please note the sarcasm.

The soft fabric of the couch embraced Patricia and her mind was left to the dark, lonely thoughts from before, now only magically transformed into incontrollable dreams.

-----

_The long dark days had only begun in her mind; the darkest of all her living years were yet to come. She didn't know what was coming, and had no chance whatsoever of knowing it until it already was upon her, tearing and ripping and slashing through her insides, her mind and the immortal soul the Catholic church had taught her to believe in. _

_An illusion of safety was all she had. Don't bother to ask why she knew all this, for she did not know herself how these thoughts had come to her, eating away all that was ever hers in another dimension, in another era, in another world. _

_Was it all a terrible nightmare? And if so was the case, would she ever wake up?_

_No!_

_That couldn't be it! She couldn't have dreamed all this despair, grief, longing and later, joy, friendship, and possibly something commonly known as affection, attraction, and maybe, maybe…_

_A dark room, light on a chair on which Patricia sat with only her thoughts as company. And no happy thoughts, not one. _

_In her imagination, one after another of the people she treasured the most disappeared. They were killed, lost and hanged as warnings for the people: "Do as we tell you, or else…"_

_The dream changed character. Now it was exactly like the dream she had before she went back through the Gate; a girl, who looked exactly like Patricia, twirled and spun around while Patricia stood about ten feet away from her and watched her. _

_The girl stopped short and looked at Patricia with horror in her gaze. Her grey eyes were wide open and staring at Patricia as if she saw a terrible, horrifying, life-threatening monster. _

_Then the girl smiled, a malicious smile that didn't seem to want anyone anything else than evil. Blood red tears trickled down the girl's cheeks and colored her face crimson. Her grin grew wider and cut her face in half, all while glaring at Patricia with all the malignity in the world centered at her. _

_The girl opened her perfectly shaped mouth and said no louder than a whisper: "You're dead. You don't belong here. You don't belong on the other side either. You come from in between the worlds, from the Gate itself!"_

_Patricia gasped. She, a creature from inside the Gate? Or worse, one of the ghosts in flesh and bone, kind of like the sea goddess, whatsername, in Pirates of the Caribbean? _

_Pirates of the Caribbean? Didn't she go way too far with the pop-culture thing now?_

_Of course she did. _

_At that instant, the world she was in now – her own dream world – dissolved in cascades of colors, spinning in a spiral, dragging Patricia and the doppelganger with the colors into the deep abyss called 'eternity'. _

---

Song of the day: This Love – Maroon 5


	37. Simply a Look Can Break Your Heart

Hi people! The story's getting kind of interesting, don't you think? This chapter is changing a little, but I think the next is even more... interesting.  
Now I made you curious, didn't I? Well, just see what happens.

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter thirty-seven: Simply a Look Can Break Your Heart

"Patricia?"

What was it now? Why couldn't she just sleep for a second without the world falling apart?

"Patricia? What are we having for dinner?"

Patricia opened her eyes and flinched slightly at the sudden light. Scieszka stood leaning over her, almost scaring her since Scieszka's nose was half an inch from touching Patricia's.

"Uwah!" Patricia screamed and blinked a few times. "What is it, Scieszka?"

"I was just wondering," Scieszka said, "if we're gonna have dinner soon."

"And you couldn't wait with dinner 'til I woke up all by myself?" Patricia said a little irritated.

"Erm… well, no. Al's getting worried 'bout Ed, and…"

"Edward hasn't come home yet?" Patricia asked.

"No. I think he ran off after you told him to… well, run off."

Patricia sighed. "Does Alphonse know where he is, or did he just run off without any indications?"

"Well, since you… yeah, he hasn't come back," Alphonse said. "I know some places he could be, but I don't know…"

"You want some help to look for him?" Patricia asked. "I could help, you know."

"Yeah, but you've got crutches still!" Alphonse said.

"Aw, c'mon! Don't underestimate this crutch-girl! I think I'll be able to help."

"…Okay. I have a list of different motels we use to stay at when we're here in Central. And also a list of some of the names he uses sometimes, too."

"That seems like a great way to start. Scieszka, could you cook dinner?" Patricia said.

"Me?! I-I can't cook!"

"You can make something, right? Just do something. Doesn't matter what, okay?" Patricia said. "Alphonse, it's best if you start to take the motels on the west and south sides, and I'll take the ones on the north and east sides."

"Sounds great." Alphonse nodded, tore the list in two pieces and gave one of the pieces to Patricia. "Good luck."

"Yeah, you too. I'll just put on a jacket, and I'll start the search."

When Patricia left the apartment, Scieszka just stood in the kitchen staring emptily in front of her, clearly confused.

-----

When Patricia had come down the stairs she glanced at the piece of paper which the different names Edward used. Edmund Patrick. Emmet Burton. Dylan Everson. Martin Edwards.

No doubt that he'd named himself.

After that short glance, she sighed and begun to walk north, only to realize in two short seconds that she'd chosen the sides with ascent all the way.

'_That's real smart, Trish. I think I'll go and kill myself right away_', she thought. Whatever. She'd probably make it anyways. And the closest motel was just a few blocks away from the apartment.

She sighed again over her stupidity and started walking again.

-----

The only thing Patricia would never ever do again was to tell Edward to go away. He was nearly impossible to find, and who knows if he used one of the names on the list? What if he had checked in under yet another name?

She sighed again. She'd gone to three of the four motels on her half of the list, and was more exhausted than she ever thought she'd be.

'_But only one more, and then I'll go home_,' she thought to herself as she walked into the last motel.

"Hello," she greeted the man behind the counter.

"Hello, miss. How can I help you?" he answered mechanically.

"I'm just wondering if you have a guest named Edward Elric, Edmund Patrick, Emmet Burton, Dylan Everson or Martin Edwards," Patricia said with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Well… we actually have one Edward Elric here, but…" the man let the sentence hang unfinished in the air.

"But what?" Patricia asked.

"You're not by any chance Patricia Taylor, are you?" he said.

"No, I'm Meredith Cannon," Patricia said, using the fake name she'd been given by Colonel Mustang.

"Oh, then it's alright! He's in number thirty-three."

Patricia thanked the man and turned to the corridor to which he'd waved a hand.

"Is number thirty-three on a different floor?" Patricia asked, wishing from the bottom of her heart that she wouldn't have to walk more stairs today.

"Yes, the third floor, why?" the man said.

"No reason," Patricia said, suddenly weighed down with tiredness. She swallowed a blob and walked up the stairs.

Well in front of room number thirty-three she started to bang loudly on the door, hoping that Edward would open quickly.

"What is it?" Patricia heard from inside the room.

"Room service!" Patricia cried out in between knocks.

"Finally!" Edward said as he opened the door widely enough for Patricia to slip in.

"What are you doing here?!" Edward yelled at her.

"Well, since you didn't come back for dinner like I told you, I had to come and get you," Patricia said simply.

"I said that I didn't want to come back for dinner!" Edward shouted.

"I know, and right now I'm in a very bad mood since you have dragged me though half of the city just because your brother is worried, so you better make it home, and make it fast," Patricia said very angrily, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

"It's your entire fault in the first place! If you hadn't invited Mr. Smarty-Pants nothing if this would've happened!"

"Alex's nice! And it's not your house, not even your apartment! Sure, you pay half of the rent, but in reality it's Scieszka's apartment," Patricia yelled, ticked off by the fact that he'd insulted one of her friends.

"Whatever! If he hadn't been there--"

"You're acting like a jealous boyfriend!" At these words, Edward got quiet. "If you could just stop being so… if you could just control your temper!" Patricia yelled at him.

"Let's go home," Edward said, much to Patricia's surprise and annoyance.

"You can't want to stay one second and then just--"

"Of course I can! And besides, wasn't this what you came for?"

Patricia stared at him. What in the world had made him change his mind?

"Don't just stand there, come now. I need to check out."

She blinked a couple of times, truly stunned that he'd given up so quickly, but followed him when he went out of the room and began the road home.

---

Song of the day: Miss Murder - AFI


	38. In My Mind is You

Okay, another chapter. This one's funny for the most part, but not really funny for some of the characters in it... One part is really sad too, but I'll let you read it now before I spoile the whole chapter.

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter thirty-eight: In My Mind is You

A badly disguised sigh escaped Patricia Cherise Taylor's lips as she went into the kitchen of the apartment at 522 Main Street. The very poorly hidden 'deeply-in-love' face sighed once more when she sat down by the table.

"What's wrong?" Edward, who previously had sat at the table reading the paper, asked.

"Nuffin'," Patricia mumbled. "Just…"

"Trisha! What happened? Did he say something, Alex?" Scieszka came into the room almost screaming the both questions at Patricia, who didn't seem to care much that she was being screamed at.

"Nuffin'," Patricia said with the same expression as earlier. Mouth open, gaze lingering either at her hands, which was constantly playing with her hair, or somewhere in the corners between the walls and the ceiling.

"Trisha… c'mon!" Scieszka said.

"Well, Alex and I were at this café, see…" Patricia sighed lovingly again.

"Yes? I know you were going out today, that's nothing new," Scieszka said.

"And I ordered a coffee and a cookie, and he ordered tea and carrot cake…"

"Yes?"

"And, well, then he said that… Well, he said that he liked me…" Patricia let out another sigh.

At this, Edward sighed heavily and rushed onward out of the room.

"And, well, then we kinda, you know… kissed." Patricia smiled like one of the girls in bad fifties love movies. Widely and without any idea whatsoever of what she was doing.

"Aah! You need to tell me _all about it_!" Scieszka yelled and sat down beside Patricia.

A loud sigh was heard from the other room.

"I'm going out!" Edward shouted and banged the door shut.

"But what about Ed?" Scieszka whispered to Patricia when Edward had left.

"What about who?" Patricia said, still stunned by the moment.

-----

"I can't believe her!"

Angry feet in heavy boots made angry sounds in the narrow alley.

"Here I try to… I don't even try, do I? I hate this."

The cloudy sky glanced down at him with nothing more than grayness and threatening rain to offer.

"Sure, what the hell! Rain at me! Make me more miserable already! I'm waiting!"

Yellow eyes shut and pink lips sighed heavily.

"What do I do now?" he asked himself out loud as the grey sky let out thunders and rain started to drop down on his emotionless face.

-----

August 24th 7:06 p.m., 24 Mason Road

Alexander Osbourne's home

There was a knock on the door. It was strange; Alexander hadn't expected that Patricia would be over now.

"I'm coming!" he said when the next knock was heard. She knew that she could come in. The question was if he had locked the door. Had he locked the door?

He went over to the door and opened. He hadn't locked. Weird thing that she didn't come in.

The only thing was that it wasn't who he had expected it to be. Instead of a black, small kid there was a blonde, small kid.

"What are you doing here?" Alexander asked Edward.

Unexpectedly, Edward pushed Alexander against a wall and held him in place with his forearm.

"Hey!" Alexander exclaimed.

"Yes, hey," Edward said, cold as ice. "If she ever comes home in a worse condition than she left in, I will kick your scrawny ass. If she is hurt somewhere, no matter of it's physically or mentally, when she comes home, I will kick your scrawny ass. I just want her to be happy, so if she tells you to back off, you _back off_. Got that?"

A little disturbed by the sudden threat, Alexander nodded unable to do anything else.

"It's good we understand each other." And with that, Edward stormed off through the open doorway and disappeared down the stairs at the end of the corridor.

-----

522 Main Street was just as quiet as the earlier days. In the days, the inhabitants were away working, researching or just wandering around, and in the evenings they were in the apartment minding their own business.

They minded their own business a whole lot more since Patricia had started dating Alexander. She was rarely home before ten p.m. and gone directly after dinner the next day.

Of course they missed her. Edward, Scieszka and Alphonse saw only small hints of her as she threw the food into her mouth in a very mannerless manner before she disappeared out the door, sometimes after calling a 'don't wait up!'.

It was sad, really.

But one Sunday in the end of September, Edward woke Patricia up at four a.m.

"Today," he said, "we're going to go on vacation. Pack your bags; train's leaving in two hours!"

The simple sound of Edward's all-too-cheery voice made Patricia wake up the slightest bit.

"Wha..?" she managed to press through her tired lips, and even though she had heard every single thing that head said, she somehow didn't understand a word of it.

"We're going away. Two hours. Get up," Edward repeated. "I'll meet you at the station. Train number three."

The message got through Patricia's thick brain into the place where she actually understood it.

But, wait a sec. Go away?

"Edwa…" Patricia sat up, but Edward wasn't there. No one to speak to. Weird.

She sighed. What was he going to do now?

Getting up was hard that morning. She had been out with Alexander a little too late the night before, and she hadn't gotten home until midnight. Four hours of sleep didn't fit too well with whatever Edward might've planned.

But up she got, dressed she got, packed she did and breakfast she ate. And in the end she went to the train station too.

"Train three, right?" she asked herself as she went past the trains one and two. With a bag in one hand and a jacket in the other she saw that Edward stood outside the train and waited for her.

"There you are! I almost thought you'd fallen back to sleep!" he exclaimed as he saw her.

"But I didn't, okay?" Patricia said and sighed. "So tell me, where are we going?"

"Not telling! Not 'til we're there," he answered with a wide trademark grin.

"Is it far?" she asked.

"Quite," he answered, not wiping the grin off his face.

"Well, then how am I supposed to tell my boss that…"

"You're not. I got you one week vacation."

"But I have no time to call…"

"You are not supposed to do that either."

"I didn't even have time to say who I was calling."

"I could figure that out myself. _Alex_, right?"

"Well, kind of…"

"See! I told you. You're not supposed to. Not now. You can call later, at the place to where we're going."

"But what if he…"

"Stop whining and get on the train!"

That shut Patricia up pretty effectively.

----

"Are we there yet?" Patricia asked for the tenth time in ten minutes.

His only response was a sigh.

"Okay, let's try a new one, what time is it?" This time, his response was silence from the other side of the worn wooden table and the rhythmic _thum-thum_ing from the train.

"Let's play something!"

"No." this response was the longest one she have had this train ride.

"Aw, come on! Truth and dare, old school!"

Edward face was a big question mark.

"Dude, you are the most boring person I've ever met. Truth or dare, spin the bottle? 7 minutes in the closet? No?"

He simply shook his head.

"Are your lips sewn together with invisible magic alchemy-tape or something? Let's play! Truth or dare?"

"Truth?" Edward said with his jaw clenched.

"Okay, have you... ever cut your hair?"

"What?"

"Yes, you have it in a braid and all. I mean, did your dog dig down all the scissors or somethin'?"

He smiled.

"Oh my god! A smile? Did my joke work the magic tape away?" She fake-gasped.

"No, I didn't have a dog," he said.

"Did your bird fly away with 'em all? Or did your cat mistake it for a mouse and ate it? Or did your guinea-pig… I don't know what a guinea-pig would do, but whatever guinea-pigs do to scissors. And by 'do' I don't mean hump it."

"My moms always used to cut it, okay? After she… the accident, I didn't have time. I do it once in a while, but just the tips. And I never had a pet."

"Okay, good. Thanks for telling me the truth, even though it is cheating not to. Now ask me."

"Truth or dare?"

"I will make it easy for you, truth."

"Have you ever had like…a boyfriend before?" he asked quietly and blushed a little.

"Oh you're going straight for the good stuff right away! You totally get this game. I'm impressed. Well, just like, one serious relationship with this guy in half of eighth and the beginning of ninth grade. Six long moths. It was good, but then we broke up because we fought like hell."

"Fought?"

"Yeah, you know, he was a jerk, and when he was a jerk I had to punch him, like, _really_ hard."

"…Okay."

"Yeah, I know. Kinda harsh, but that's what you gotta do, y'know. And then there's Alex, but I guess you don't wanna hear 'bout him."

"You're right. I don't."

"Okay, my turn. Truth or dare?"

"No! I don't wanna play anymore. It was a stupid game."

"Aw, c'mon! You have to admit it's fun. Truth or dare?"

"Truth, I guess."

"Okay, have you ever… Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"No."

"What about Winry? You two seem friendly enough!"

"No! She's more like a sister than a girlfriend."

"Ah… I see. A sister, riiight…"

"Stop it!" Edward cried out and punched her.

"Hey! What did you do that for?" Patricia yelled back and threw her handbag at him, grinning like a fool.

They threw punches and pinched each other in between laughs. Heavily panting, they eventually calmed down and left the train car squeaking for itself.

"You're sure you and Winry don't have anything?" Patricia asked, still barely breathing.

"Yes! Don't make me hit you again!" Edward said, the grin never leaving his face.

Not until Patricia fell asleep. Then he could mourn all he wanted about what he wanted so bad but could never have.

---

Song of the day: Losing You – Dead by April


	39. You'd Be Surprised What I Endure

Okay, good day people. New chapter, new intrigues. Enjoy.

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter thirty-nine: You'd be Surprised what I Endure

Red flickering light behind closed eyelids and repetitive shaking back and forth were not things Patricia usually liked to wake up to. And the usual opinion applied to that very moment, in a train car not far away from the secret place where Edward was taking her.

But the important thing in that sentence was that our heroine woke up.

"Where are we?" she asked her companion sleepily.

"You're awake? That's about the time," the blonde, yellow-eyed companion answered.

"Still, where are we?" Patricia asked.

"We're just a teeny bit away from where we're going."

"Well, that's helpful," she said, sarcasm rolling in heavy drops to the floor while she spoke.

He just grinned.

Patricia had hated surprises ever since her fifth birthday, when they threw a surprise party for her. First of all, she'd thought that they forgot about the most important day of the year. And when she opened the door to her house, an enormous clown jumped and screamed: 'Happy Birthday!' in her face. She now liked neither clowns nor surprises.

"You are a big jerkface, you know that?" Patricia said and glared at the blonde.

"I have been insulted worse," he sighed.

"Yeah, join the club. When I said what I thought was right, I was a slut, a whore, a cunt or a dickface for the ones who disapproved. You gotta love Junior High."

They were interrupted by a soft voice which echoed in the train.

"We are now approaching New Ceru. This train will terminate in West City."

"Is it New Ceru? Please tell me, it's not like I can run away right now."

She could feel the train slowing down and Edward stood up and started to pick down their bags from the shelf.

"I take that as a yes," she said to her companion and ignored the fact that he didn't look like they were going to get off there.

"C'mon now, Edward. Please, tell me this is where we go off…!" Patricia whined.

Now everything happened in a big blur. Edward grabbed hold of her arm and their luggage and ran down through the train aisle to the nearest door. They had gotten out on a whim; when Patricia turned around the train was already departing.

"What did you do that for?!" Patricia cried out in the blonde alchemist's face.

"What I did it for? For fun, of course!" Edward laughed.

With her eyebrows raised to her hairline, Patricia turned back to Edward and looked at him.

"Fun? You call that _fun_?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, kinda," he shrugged with an innocent look.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Patricia said.

"Yes, and that's why you like me sooo much, right?"

"Stop it." Patricia punched him lightly, smiling. "Now, where are we going next?"

"Well, our final destination is about… 4.7 miles, maybe."

"Four point seven miles. Are you crazy?" Patricia screamed in his face. "Are you telling me that I'm going to walk _four point seven miles_?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Aah!"

Patricia started to step around in a circle, clearly a little depressed with the fact that she'd have to walk more than she'd ever done in her entire life. Bumping her fists at her forehead, she mumbled "No, no, no, no…"

"Or," Edward said with a sly smile, "we could just take that moped over there."

"Wh-what?" Patricia stopped her desperate circle-walking abruptly and stared at him. "A moped? Why didn't you say so!? I drive!"

"No, you're not. I wear the pants here," Edward said, stretching into his full length, or rather, all the length that he had, which was proven to be not much.

"Well, last I looked…" Patricia looked down at her legs, and to her disappointment she saw a short skirt instead of the pants she secretly wished for. "Hm. Okay, that went worse than expected. Would you buy an argument about a fair society?"

'_Crossing my fingers, crossing my fingers…'_

"No."

"Aw, c'mooon! Lemme drive, pleeease?!!?!"

"No, I once let Winry drive one of those things, and well, that ended not so very well. So, no, I drive."

There was no chance in the world for Patricia to escape.

-----

"Change gear! Go into the next gear!" Patricia screamed in despair.

"What? What does that mean?" Edward screamed over the loud sound of the old moped.

"You have to change gear or else the motor will explode!"

"What! It will explode?!"

"No, but it wont be happy! You have to push up that thing with your foot at the same time that you hold in that handle at the same time that you release the gas."

"Okay. What?"

"Just do it already!"

Have a guess, Ladies and gentlemen; do you think that the attempt was successful?

You were right.

The engine died quickly and Patricia sighed.

"Are you done? Maybe let it to someone that knows how to do?" she asked him.

"Are you sure it isn't the engine?"

"You are stalling all the time, this isn't automatic gear change, you actually have to think for yourself," she gasped. "How scary. Now can I drive?"

He just rolled his eyes and stepped off the vehicle and bowed. "There you go, Princess of Engine Town. Why do I always like girls that are crazy with everything with a screw and oil in it?"

She just laughed and sat down at the moped and started it.

"C'mon, you aren't angry, right? Just tell me witch way were going, and everything will be okay. Okay?"

She could hear him mumble 'whatever…' when he astride the bike.

"Why are we pouty, are we pouty, should we be pouty?"

"Honestly," he said, "I thought that I could impress you with my mad skills, but I obviously didn't have any."

She just laughed.

'_He wants to impress me. No need for that.'_

-----

"This is your vacation spot?"

The small cottage wasn't even enough to be called a cottage. It was barely even a shack.

"Yeah, kind of, I guess."

"Wasn't it supposed to be a vacation spot – kind of like beaches and so on…?" Patricia looked at the shack with deep disappointment in her eyes.

"I never said it would be a vacation. I said 'we're going away', not 'vacation'," Edward said.

"No, you said 'vacation', and this sure doesn't look like one," Patricia said, glaring at him.

"No, _you_ said 'vacation, I said going away."

"Hm. But this is kinda your secret hideout?" Patricia asked.

"I guess you could say that…"

"Then you have a crappy hideout."

"Then we'll fix that," Edward said smugly.

Patricia just looked at him, a little skeptical, a little expectant, a little curious.

"And how are you gonna do that?" she asked him.

"Just watch."

He did what she'd seen him do so many times; he clapped his hands and put them to the ground. Blue sparks of light flew over the ground towards the shack and grew in strength as it reached it. Something not quite visible behind the flashes happened, and when the light at last disappeared there wasn't any shack there.

"Wow…"

The shack had transformed into a nice vacation spot, not with any beaches, sun and so on, but a really nice place. Almost like a cottage in the Alps at winter.

"How the heck did you do that?" Patricia said, still stunned by the fact that he made her a better cottage.

"Well, you'll know in a week. This is no normal vacation, see," Edward said.

"How is it any not like a vacation?" Patricia asked, suddenly unsure what to believe.

"Well, see this as a training camp. You're gonna learn alchemy."

---

Song of the day: Restless Heart Syndrome – Green Day


	40. She Asks God Why

Hi people! New chapter, dedicated to every single reviewer. Words can't describe how much I love you.

And now my first anniversary is tomorrow! Oh dear Lord, has it been this long already? Anyways, on with the reading, people!

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter forty: She Asks God Why

_Alchemy is a most splendored thing. Just a blue flash and something happen, good or bad. It seems like that for those who never did such a thing. For all of us who have tried, once or more often, it's more complicated. To understand the materials, to understand the construction of them, to understand how to tear them apart, to understand how to reveal their inner essence without disturbing the balance. _

_For all of us who have tried, it's more than a flash and everything is okay. To us, it's sacrifice. To us, it's more than just alchemy. _

_It's the one true thing that keeps the world whole. _

-----

Edward and Patricia arrived to the cottage in the evening, and they didn't really have time to do more than just talk about the whole thing, the alchemy thing.

_You're gonna learn alchemy_.

Ah, riiight, alchemy.

Patricia didn't think she'd pull it off.

Edward was convinced that she could do it.

Why?

Yes, because she'd been through the Gate, of course. More than once.

Oh.

Good argument, eh?

Shut up.

Well, after that small chat the sun was long gone behind the horizon and the sky turned rapidly into a pitch black night.

Then there was only one more thing, one more worry.

The bedroom.

Patricia had dreaded over that for a longer time now. Edward knew that she was kind of together with Alexander, and because of that he wouldn't… do anything, would he?

But it was okay. The bedroom was quite small, but it was okay. Two beds were placed along a wall each, across from each other. One pillow and one blanket lay on the beds, one set for Patricia and one for Edward. No problem, right?

-----

Patricia woke up in the middle of the night, literally almost freezing to death. The cottage was pretty, but isolated? No.

She rose from the bed and went over to her bag, hoping to manage to dig up an article of clothing that maybe did more than make her look nice.

She dug around in that bag long enough to wake Edward, who was not exactly pleased with the situation.

"What are you doing?" he asked, yawning loudly.

"I'm freezing," Patricia answered. "I'm trying to find a sweater."

He sighed and sat up, put one foot on the floor to help her.

"Ah!" he cried out and yanked away the foot. "It's freezing here!" He started to look around in the room to search for something, Patricia didn't know what.

"You don't say…!" Patricia glared at him. "You couldn't have made me something warm? God, why did we have to go _here_? Couldn't you've gotten a secret hideout in Bahamas?"

"What? Where?" He narrowed his eyes and tried to look in his memory for another small, almost non-existent city far, far up in the north…

"Never mind. I need to get warm, and this," she held up a handful of summer clothes, "isn't gonna help."

He sighed again and stood up, carefully and without screaming this time.

"Help me out here," he said as he started to drag his bed over to Patricia's.

"What are you doing?" Patricia asked.

"Making the cold cottage a warm cottage using body heat." The beds clanked together. "Now just lie down, and we're warm again."

Patricia glanced at him skeptically.

"Come on. I'll find out something better tomorrow." He waved his hand towards the both beds.

Patricia sighed a little and rose from the floor, still looking at Edward, not knowing if he was serious.

"C'mon," he said again, lying down at the bed's inner side and clapping at the other. "I'm not gonna bite you."

Patricia sighed, smiled a little and laid down, drawing the blankets, which he magically had transformed into one big blanket after he put the beds together, up to her chin.

Before she fell asleep, now warm again, she felt his arm slip around her waist, holding her close and tight.

For the first time since she came to Amestris she felt completely safe.

-----

She wake up by a lovely bird singing just outside the window, she wake up to a bright and beautiful sunny Saturday morning, stretching out her arms and yawning. And then she went out and started to make breakfast for her beautiful husband and her beautiful statistically distributed 2.05 children.

Yeah right.

The only sound she woke up to was the drumming sound of the rain falling on the roof, it was a matter of fact Monday, the last thing she wanted to do right now was moving and Edward and she was as most definitely not husband and wife.

And the face she woke up to was not the pretty, hazy snoring and calmly sleeping face you usually see in the cute love-movies.

No, more like an unshaved, loudly snoring, drooling and horrible morning breath-Edward.

Lovely.

She got up, praying to God that she wouldn't wake him, and went out into the other room.

The cottage was not very large, she already knew that, but she didn't remember it to be this small. But, oh, well. It would have to do. And by the way, it was _way_ better now than it was when she first saw it.

Anyways, she started making breakfast, since she was really hungry. A few eggs, some bacon, some mushrooms… Gorgeous.

What else is gorgeous? Well, cupcakes, but she didn't have any. Nor did she have the ingredients to make some. She would have to terrorize Edward.

Still smirking a little, Patricia fried the bacon, making the thick scent fill the cottage. If only Edward could smell it.

A blue, sparkling blur of lightning came from the bedroom, making Patricia jump sky high. She ran over there, a thousand thoughts spinning around in her head.

'_What happened, what did he do? Did he, like, clap his hands while asleep and fused the bed with the floor? Or, worst case scenario, did he manage to fuse himself to the bed?_'

Oh. My. God.

Panting from the rush of adrenaline she entered the room and saw… a fireplace.

"I don't want you to wake me in the middle of the night again," he said, still in his underwear.

"Well, thanks," Patricia said, gave him a funny look and walked out of there, leaving Edward to dress.

A fireplace. That's really sweet, but this early in the morning? It just couldn't be healthy. Like drinking in the morning. You can do it, but it's not really something you do.

Cursing by the male's lower parts, Patricia realized that her bacon was…

Well, burnt.

Hm, no fun.

Cursing through it all, Patricia quickly lifted the bacon out of the pan and put it in the sink, where it could cool down safely. And there went breakfast.

Well, there were eggs, at least. And bread. And a little leftover potatoes from the dinner the night before.

Wonderful! Now, all it took was for her to fry it all – preferably without getting interrupted by some fireplace – and she had breakfast for her and Edward.

Quickly she got it all done, and after that it was a heaven for her. Lovely. Great. Wonderful. Gorgeous.

And then Edward came and ate two thirds of it.

"Oh my god, Edward! I made _me_ breakfast, not you!" she yelled.

"Well, I made _you_ a fireplace, so don't complain," he countered.

"Point taken."

-----

That morning was one of the most boring in her life yet. Well, not counting the endless mornings at school with History, but that's not the point.

However, she was supposed to read a certain number of pages in one of the big, brown, books Edward had brought along. That was really hard when Edward went out to chop wood. It was hot, very hot, and he took off his shirt.

That really made her concentration jump sky high. Not.

Okay, she'd seen a guy topless before. She'd seen hot, topless guys before. But she secretly had a thing for sweaty, working hot guys without shirt. Edward was like sex on legs.

She couldn't believe she just thought that.

Wait, she could.

"If you like him sooo much, why don't you talk to him? Too bad he isn't gay; I'd take him in no time," she could hear a Robin-bird whisper in her ear. Now she's hallucinating. This day seemed to get better and better. "If he looks up, keep staring. Then maybe, and I hope you hear the underlined 'maybe' in my voice, he'll know that you are interested. If he does, go for it. And if he doesn't, then he's an idiot. Ditch him and go to the next."

She smiled. Maybe she should? I mean, she just couldn't deny it. She liked him. She really liked him. Maybe he liked her back?

And maybe she should take the first step, because he's shy? Okay, not shy, but really not the first one to rush into a new relationship and trust people.

He looked up.

Oh my god, this is it. This is the first step to a possible… whatever with Edward. Maybe a step to something big, something epic. This could be that guy she would spend the rest of her life with. That guy she would marry, have kids and die with.

She looked down. Alexander. She forgot Alexander in her calculations. Shit. She smacked her own head.

"This is a study trip, you like Alex, Edward equals friend. This is a study trip, you like Alex, Edward equals friend…"

But why couldn't she even convince herself? Alexander was the guy in her life, the one she would live and die with.

Only two questions came to her mind; if that was the case, why was she in a cottage with Edward? And why did her heart feel empty at the thought of a life without him?

---

Song of the day: We Believe – Good Charlotte


	41. In My Old Dreams

Okay, I know that I'm late. Sorry. I'm kinda on vacation now, so I don't really know what day it is.  
Well, time to read, eh?

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter forty-one: In My Old Dreams

It was a Friday morning, and the sun shone brightly through the dirty windows of the cottage onto the now awake face of Patricia Cerise Taylor.

Friday… Already? The week had passed so fast. First, there was nothing but reading through one after another of those damn books Edward had brought, but eventually it merged into something interesting; the practical stuff.

The practical stuff was nothing more than repetitively making mistakes over and over again, but as she made the mistakes Patricia felt that she became a stronger alchemist.

She didn't like the alchemy, though. She didn't use any of it if there was any possibility of avoiding it. There were simply too many memories in it. Every single time she used it, she was reminded of the Gate all over again. The special feeling, part excitement, part fear, was exactly like the one she'd experienced in that place. More than anything, she wanted to be able to help Edward and Alphonse without being afraid, but that just wouldn't happen.

Every time she used alchemy, her heart skipped a beat, she started to breathe more heavy, and her sympathetic nervous system took over her and made her want to either fight or flee. The only good came when all of it was over; the result of the alchemic reaction was most often satisfying.

She tilted her head over to the sleeping teenager in the other end of the room. He was not really cute when he slept, but she could see that he no longer had that look on his face, the look that said that all he wanted to do was to run from something he never would forget.

At peace. That was something she hadn't entirely been for over a year. Always did it haunt her, the life she had lived before. Sometimes she wished that she could go back, or wake up someday in her own bed and realize that it all had been a dream.

A tear caressed her cheek lightly, and she quickly wiped it away, smearing the salt water all over her face. No, now she would have to stop with this foolishness, stop being a self-centered brat. Just go and practice now, little girl, and at least the brothers you keep so close to your heart will be happy.

She chuckled a little, without knowing what was funny. A desperate laugh escaped her lips as she choked on another wave of tears.

'_Stop it, stop this craziness _now_, Patricia. Pull yourself together. What if Edward wakes up and the first thing he sees is you, crying like a baby after her mother. What will you do then?_'

She hated to admit it, but the thought was not wrong. She had to make breakfast. She had to do more alchemy. She had to tell Edward all she knew about this foreign alchemy, and maybe, just maybe…

An unexpected movement from the bed beside her startled her. No, no, no, no, no nono… Don't wake up now!

Before she knew what she did, she was out of the room and hastily making breakfast for herself and Edward. He was _not_ allowed to see that she had been crying.

-----

Still Friday. It was almost time to go home, and it was kind of good, kind of bad. Good because she finally got to come home, bad because she really enjoyed being out in nowhere with Edward. He was surprisingly nice when there was only the two of them.

But, there was no time to grieve. He has promised that they would do it over again someday.

"Well, are you ready?" Edward called to Patricia, who was facing the cottage and giving it one last goodbye.

She turned around, giving Edward a smile. He was already sitting on the moped, ready to go.

"Yeah, I guess," she said. She would miss it, the whole cottage-thing, she knew that. But she had to go; Alexander was waiting for her at home, probably hoping that she would be home as soon as possible.

She walked over to the moped, sat up behind Edward and sincerely tried to convince her racing brain that everything was going to be just fine, and that she wouldn't end up in a ditch somewhere. Trust.

"Well, here we go…!" Edward said and kicked the old thing to life. It growled loud as he changed into first gear and off they went.

"Wow, you have been practicing!" Patricia yelled to him.

"Well, now you might be impressed with my skills!"

At this, Patricia laughed.

-----

After only a few miles the moped started to cough and eventually died again.

"What did you do?" Patricia said to Edward, who was just as surprised as her.

"I didn't do anything! It just died, I swear!" he said, apparently confused.

"Here, lemme see…" Patricia said, and pushed him away from the moped. She glanced into the fuel tank and sighed. Nothing there, not a single drop.

"Well, you're lucky. There's a house over there," she said after declaring that they were out of fuel. "You go and ask them for it."

"What?! I can't do that!" Edward said, shocked that she'd come up with an idea like that. "You go!"

She glared at him. "What is it with men and asking for help? I'll be back soon."

Sighing all the way, Patricia went to the bright red house, which was just within sight. Oh, how she was going to kill Edward for not refilling the tank after practicing.

But there was no time to be mad at him. Growling and muttering all the way, she was soon at the door, knocking. The door opened and out came a petite old woman with only a handful of thin grey hair on the top of her head.

"Hello, dear. How can I help you?" she asked.

"Well, I and an acquaintance of mine have run out of fuel," Patricia said and tried her best to look miserable instead of angry. "We were just wondering if you have some to spare."

"Well, of course dear. Come in, come in, but don't go out in the kitchen. It's a mess in there," the lady said, smiling. "I will go and get it for you, just wait here."

Patricia watched as the lady disappeared through a door and heard her fading footsteps as she walked down some stairs, probably to a basement or something like that.

Suddenly wondering what could've made the lady's kitchen messy, Patricia peeked around a corner and saw something she had definitely not expected to see.

A hand, in a puddle of blood.

Patricia gasped for air. Who was this old lady? The old fairytale _Hansel and Gretel_ popped into her mind. What if this lady was an old witch, just waiting for her second meal of the day? The lady was going to feed her and make her fat and eatable…

Patricia turned around to run away from there, only to run into the arms of the lady.

"I told you to not look into the kitchen, did I not?" the lady said, her voice changing. It became mocking, deeper and made her sound like a real creep, kind of like those villains Patricia had seen on TV…

"I-I… didn't mean to…" Patricia stammered, terrified.

"But you did, right?" The lady gripped Patricia's arm firmly and dragged her close.

And in Patricia's sight, the lady changed. Soon, where the thin-haired old lady had stood only seconds ago, there was a pretty tall guy, dressed only in a short tank top and some _really_ small shorts. Dark green hair hid everything but a pair of malicious, purple eyes.

"Wh-who are you?"

"Name's Envy, and you're coming with us now, princess!"

---

Song of the day: The Number of the Beast – Iron Maiden


	42. Only Fear

Hello people! Sunday, update, the usual thing. I have been on mid term break now, but going back to school tomorrow. Hm. Not as funny as it sounds, right?

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter forty-two: Only Fear

All she saw was some sort of glimmering red lights on a black background. Her whole head was thumping at the same rate as her heart. There was not a part of her body that didn't hurt, not even her little finger. Oh, or maybe her little finger didn't hurt, it was kind of hard to tell. The parts that weren't hurting were numb.

When she tried to move her hands, she soon learned that they were tied behind her back with a kind of string that cut into her wrists whenever she tried to rip it apart.

Wonderful.

Patricia opened her eyes, only to stare at the navy blue back of a car seat. She tried to sit up quietly, but froze when she heard the voice of the guy from before.

"Well, well! Princess has woken up! You see that, Lust?"

"That's about the time. I was starting to get worried. Father wasn't gonna be happy if we brought her to the lair dead," another voice answered. This one was just as cold as the other one's. By the way, was his name really Envy, or was that just a code name? And Lust, that's just funny. A seven sin parade. How lovely.

Still a little disoriented, Patricia sat up without being interrupted. What was this? Some not-so-nice geek convention, where the geeks pulled pranks on common mortals?

Oh, that's right, they didn't really have conventions in Amestris. Darn it.

Okay, she now sat up in the backseat of a car with two freaky-looking dudes. Okay, one dude and one dudette, but that's not the point.

"What do you want?" she asked, and heard the cliché first when it had left her mouth. "I mean, I'm just a girl, really. Knows nothing, doesn't mean anything to anybody, besides Alex and the Elrics--"

"You know the pipsqueak and pip's brother?" the guy called Envy said and twisted his mouth into that wide grin that made him look even freakier. "This might turn out rather well after all, won't it, Lust?"

The Lust lady looked at him and nodded. "It will be, indeed…"

"What?" Patricia asked, suddenly worried that she might've said something she really shouldn't have. "The Elrics? Did I say that? I mean… the Erics! I met two guys named Eric the other day and, well, they were nice and so on, but—" she babbled on, praying to God that they would just ignore everything she had said.

"Don't try it further, princess," Envy told her.

"Don't call me that!" Patricia yelled at him.

"Lust, I'm getting tired of her. Can't we just knock her out again?"

"N-no! I don't want… I mea, just let me go instead! I won't be disturbing you again if you let me go now!" Patricia tried to negotiate desperately.

"Lust, _please_!"

The Lust lady leaned over the seat to slap Patricia around a little, and the last thing Patricia saw was two giant boobs in her face.

-----

The next time Patricia woke up, she was no longer in a car, but in a really tiny room that resembled a prison cell. Looking around, Patricia couldn't remember how the heck she'd gotten there.

Cement walls seemed to stretch up into Space, it was very, _very_ high ceiling there, wherever she was. Red flowers blossomed before her eyes every time she tried to stand up, so she left herself sprawled across the hard floor.

From time to time, she could hear rattle from the other cells, or what she presumed were cells. There weren't any bars, just a door, and it was locked thoroughly, determined to not let her out.

Patricia sighed heavily, the oxygen stinging her insides. What did they want? She was, as she'd said, just a sixteen-year-old who knew about nothing about anything. She knew a little alchemy and she'd died before, but they couldn't possibly know anything about that, now, could they?

No, of course they couldn't. The only one she'd told about the whole going-through-the-Gate thing was Edward, and he had nothing to do with these guys, right?

Or did he? That's maybe why he hadn't wanted to go to the house in the first place. He was in this conspiracy against her! They were going to kill her and see if she came back again! What was she going to do?

Oh, no need to do anything. Now the Envy guy came into the small cell-like room.

"You're awake!" he said, somehow surprised.

"Yeah," Patricia said way cockier then she felt at the moment. "Now tell me what I'm doing here."

"Oh, no can do, princess. We need you to talk to Father first."

Father? These cosplay-geeks had a _father_? And who was he? The Big Bad Wolf?

"Father," she asked. "What does he want?"

"Well, you ask him. He wants to see you now!" Envy grinned and started to walk towards Patricia with purple eyes filled to the brink with ferocity. Patricia took a step back, but he was already there gripping her elbow much tighter than necessary.

"No, I don't w—"

"We don't care," Envy said, "what you want or don't want. Here we do what _we_ want, princess."

-----

The room was gigantic. There were wires and cables absolutely everywhere. In the middle of the cable chaos sat an old man. The weird thing was that he was attached to several wires. Also, there was the Lust lady and a enormously fat guy.

But Patricia knew that she'd seen this man before, on a photograph somewhere… But she couldn't place it.

"Welcome, Patricia Taylor," the old man spoke. "We believe that you have some information."

The old guy knew her name? This one was way beyond weird, strange or creepy.

"I don't know anything," Patricia said, not really knowing if it was true or not. "I just… I…"

"You were inside the Gate, kid," the Lust lady said harshly. "What did you see in there?"

"Nothing! I just saw a whole lot of indefinable… something. I don't know." Patricia shook her head violently.

"Now tell us…" the Lust lady said after receiving a nod from the old guy. "What we need to know. Tell us the Truth."

"What truth? I—" She was cut off by her own scream, as one of Lust lady's extended fingers sank deeply into her right shoulder.

"We said; tell us the Truth," Lust said.

"_I_ said; I don't kn—" Another one of the razor sharp fingernails penetrated Patricia's shoulder. Another high-pitched scream echoed through the room.

"Stop it, Lust," the old one said. "We will let her go for now. I don't think she remembers right now. Let us give the girl a car and let her drive home."

"But--"

"No buts."

The Envy guy sighed and started to drag Patricia towards a door. Before they reached it, Patricia somehow managed to faint.

---

Song of the day: Overdue - The Get Up Kids


	43. You Get Confused

I know that it's been forever since I updated, but I've had some serious trouble with my Internet connection. I moved to a new apartment November 1st, and since then I haven't been able to connect. Last Tuesday I had a guy over to fix it for me, and here I am updating. I'm really sorry for the unplanned hiatus.

Well, without more blabbering from me; here's the new chappie!!

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter forty-three: You Get Confused

When she woke up, Patricia was inside a car. The keys were in the ignition and ready to go. Before they could change their minds, Patricia started the car and speeded away through the night. The shoulder hurt like hell, but she tried her best to ignore it and drove on despite the pain.

The night rushed by, and Patricia drove on. She had absolutely no idea where she was, but hoped that the narrow road she was driving on would eventually meet another, bigger road with signs of where she was going.

She also hoped to get back into Central, not some other city. She didn't have a clue of how long she'd been gone; she only knew that Edward probably wasn't waiting for her anymore outside the red house.

She wondered what he was doing, if he was out looking for her or… something. He had probably gotten both the military and the police force into this mess, and knowing him, Patricia didn't think that they had nothing to go on. And if they really didn't have anything, Edward would probably be out searching anyways…

Also, she wondered if they'd told Alexander anything or if he was in a state of uncertainty.

Now! Patricia screamed out of pure happiness when the signs of a crossing approached.

_West City – 97 miles_

_Central City – 150 miles_

Oh my god. What's that in kilometers again?

Think, think, think.

Logically, it should be longer to Central. But maybe it's the other way around? If you multiply something that is between 1 and zero, then it should be smaller, right?

Or was it the opposite…? She put her head in her hands, sighing. Why did Mr. Envious have to hit her so hard? But… She was going to Central anyway. Why did she bother?

-----

Roy Mustang's office, October 6th, 03.47 PM, Tuesday. 

"There has to be something more you can do!?" Edward yelled and slammed his fists on the table.

"And what would that be, Metal, maybe we could bring in a psychic?" Roy Mustang asked coldly, "We have done everything we can, and more. Now we can just wait and pray. The first twenty-four hours has past a long time ago and we strip searched the area. The only lead we have is a dead old lady and some tire tracks leading out into nowhere."

"Maybe she could be somewhere else? We could put out posters? Have you done an autopsy on the old lady, we could call West and East and North and…?" Edward said, but it sounded like he had lost the flame he had ten seconds ago.

"And don't you think that we already done that? You are just a little kid, you don't know anything about missing people," Mustang said, really sounding like he had better things to do, like actually searching for Patricia, or seducing his secretary.

"I beg your pardon! I know more than what you think!"

-----

Finally, she was there.

Patricia parked right outside the well-known house she could proudly call work. She slowly managed to drag herself up the marble stairs and open the big door that lead into the building.

Luckily, she knew the road to Mustangs office by heart. Don't ask why.

Excuse me, is Colonel Mustang available?"

The young secretary glanced at her from top to bottom, and then smiled a big fake smile that was specially invented for people like Patricia; tired, ugly and annoying.

"Please hold. I'll check if he is available."

"Please tell him that it's urgent?"

"I'll tell him that," she smiled at Patricia like a Barbie doll, and then turned to the small white machine with two buttons on the desk, and pressed the green button. Easy to remember.

"Mr. Mustang, there is someone who wants to see you. She said that it was urgent." She made the word 'urgent' sound like a moan.

"Fine, Marie, send her in," came the tired answer.

"Okay, Mr. Mustang, I'll be sure to do that."

But Patricia had already started walking. The curious thing was that she could hear muffled screams down the corridor. That wasn't good, was it?

-----

"I know that you are upset, but that is not an excuse to scream at someone that is above you in the food chain!"

"And what do you mean by that?" Edward said even louder.

"I mean what I said! I don't really have time to deal with angry boys like you. I have loads of work to do…" But he was interrupted by a sarcastic laugh.

"You, work? The only thing that you have to do is whisper some dirty words into the secretary's ear, maybe even push her up a wall in a little cleaning locker and she'll do whatever you want!"

"That was…"

-----

"…over the line, Fullmetal! You know, if I snap my fingers, you will be out from the military!"

Patricia sighed. How many times is he supposed to say that and not do it?

Just a couple of meters left. Hurt as hell. Hold on girl.

And as she slowly lifted her hand to knock Patricia felt like she was going to pass out any second. Her shoulder was burning up slowly, every movement burned as hell, burn, burned like the bonfires in that song…

-----

Colonel Mustang and Edward Elric were interrupted by a short knock.

"Come in," Roy replied to the knock. He wondered who had the indecency to come into his room like this, even though they spoke to his secretary first. She'd told them that he was busy, right? And still they came bursting in like that…

"Is it one of your five girlfriends…?" Edward said, but stopped himself when he saw who it was. "Patricia? Is that you?"

"Apparently," she said. The floor came crashing before her eyes, leaving the world black.

-----

Quickly rushed to the hospital. Quickly strapped to a stretcher. Quickly anaesthetized. Quickly operated on, only in a desperate attempt to save her arm.

Quickly saved.

Patricia woke up in a hospital bed. Not an unusual sight, but a sight she could see with less frequency. Oh, how she hated it.

But she liked the sight she saw next. Alexander sat in a chair with his head resting on the sterile wall behind him. He didn't sleep, though. His breath was uneven and his left hand was fiddling with an envelope.

Patricia smiled and tried to sit up, but was stopped by a sharp pain in her shoulder. Thank God, it was still there. She welcomed the pain with a hiss, which resulted in that Alexander ran up from his chair and just suddenly embraced Patricia.

"Hi, girlfriend," he said. And before Patricia had any chance of answering, he continued: "There's something I have to tell you."

"Usually, people ask how you are when you wake up in a hospital bed," Patricia said sourly.

"C'mon, we both know you're fine," Alexander smiled. "And besides, won't you listen?"

"Yeah, sure," Patricia said and moved over to one side of the bed just to give him space to sit. He sat down and began on his story.

"I've been meaning to tell you this earlier, but then the punk kidnapped you and I could no longer reach you. Well, this is kinda hard to tell, it's a… secret I never told anybody before."

"Yeah?" Patricia said, motioning for him to continue.

"Well, you see, I'm not from here," he said.

"Okay, so where are you from?"

"London."

Patricia was speechless for a moment, before asking doubtingly: "The small village up in the north?"

"No. A really big city, in southern England."

"I've been there," Patricia said. Alexander just laughed.

"No, you couldn't have… It's not exactly around here…"

"What if I told you I'm from Paris? Would you believe me then?" Patricia asked. She was shaken. He was like her!

"_Tu parles français*?_" he asked, testing her.

Patricia sighed. "_Oui, je parle français_, and apparently so do you."

"You really…" Alexander said.

"You too." Patricia said.

"Yeah."

-----

Alexander told her that he grew up somewhere in England and that he somehow got thrown out of his own house and thus had to live on the streets of London. There, he had coped pretty well, until one day about one and a half years ago, when a man just came up from nowhere and shot him. He wound up in the middle of Central City after going through the Gate, which was a pretty scary experience in itself without being found by the same freaky dude who had killed him.

"Funny," Patricia said at that. "The 'freaky dude' is my boss."

They had talked out about their experiences, but eventually Alexander had to go home. It wasn't until then she got the letter. It was the envelope Alexander had held in his hand when Patricia woke up.

It was a plain brown envelope with the military logo on, addressed to Patricia. She opened it, and the first word she read was "TRANSFER" in big letters.

---

Song of the day: Shoreline - Broder Daniel

*French for "Do you speak French?" and "Yes, I speak French.".


	44. You'll Learn Again

Okay, as you might've noticed, Christmas is coming up. I won't be able to update until 2010 (is it just me or is that kinda weird to write?), since I'm going to be away for the most of the time. I'll see you in January, people! Merry x-mas and happy new year!

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter forty-four: You'll Learn Again

The first word in the letter she got. Transfer.

Transfer.

'_No. No, no, no…_' she thought. This was more than she could possibly handle. She was in the hospital after being kidnapped by some freaks, she'd just found out that Alexander had been killed by the same freaky dude as her, and now she was _transferred_?

_Patricia Taylor, _

_You are hereby being informed that you are going to transfer to the military branch in East City. Your superior there will be Colonel Roy Mustang._

Oh, thanks a lot. Not only is she being transferred in less than a week, but she is forced to be the subordinate of that jerk?

That was just _lovely_. Now she had to…

Had to call Alexander.

-----

A train, a seat, a Patricia in the middle. A common people's car, not the car reserved for the military. Why? Only because Patricia did not have in mind to sit in a seat on a train for a lot of hours in a uniform.

She had called Alexander. He took it badly.

He couldn't bear the thought of moving again.

She couldn't decline a military order.

In the end, there was only two hurt teens, vowing to see each other sometime in the future.

She had also tried to talk to her commanding officer in a desperate attempt of convincing her to stay.

"_And you're serious?" Patricia yelled when she first got into Colonel Mustang's office exactly three days after she received the letter. _

_The Colonel cocked a brow when she came bursting in. That was something out of the ordinary, boring life at the office. _

_Patricia sighed, saluted and muttered a 'sir'. _

"_Yes, I'm serious," Mustang said after getting what he wanted. _

"_How come I'm transferring?" Patricia asked. _

"_I wanted you on the team," Mustang answered, smirking a little. _

What the heck? Patricia shook her head. It wasn't possible. Her, on the team? That sounded just as bad now in her memory as it did back when she first heard it. The only difference was that now she was actually sitting on a train on her way to a new job. But still. It felt… wrong.

Her head snapped up at the sound of a door opening. Into the coupé stepped the Colonel's always faithful little watchdog Riza Hawkeye.

"Hello," she said. "I'm—"

"First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, I know," Patricia answered rather rudely. At that moment she wanted to do little more than wreck the whole military system.

"And you're Patricia Taylor. Good. We know each other." She sat down on the seat across from Patricia. "I've been asked to teach you how to defend yourself."

"Say what?" Patricia said, _very_ confused. "Defend myself? I don't need—"

"Yes you do. The Colonel and Edward have the same opinion on that. I'll meet you on Monday after work."

"S-sure," Patricia stuttered, still confused. Riza smiled and walked out of the coupé again.

Patricia stared emptily in front of herself. What the heck had just happened?

-----

She had fallen asleep on the train. The well-known rhythm had kept her from thinking too much about all the troubles with the military and Alexander and… well, everything. The little dream land of joy was a perfect vacation from real life until Patricia was woken up by the train's sudden stop.

At first, she was a little confused. They couldn't be in East already, now, could they? Noo… impossible, right?

"_And now we have arrived at our final destination, East City,_" a cool voice was heard from the speakers. "_Please take care of your belongings and have a nice day._"

"Uh," Patricia muttered. The seat was uncomfortable, the car cold and miserable. It was the twenty-first of October and already three inches of snowy slush covered the train station. "Wonderful."

The good thing about the previous winter in Central was that it apparently had been a mild winter with less snow than expected. The bad thing was that it probably snowed more in East than in Central. The thing Patricia hated the most about winter was the snow. Everything got wet and grey and it was impossible to walk on the sidewalks without being spluttered down with the delight of winter.

So you could say that Patricia was less than happy with the beginning of her new life.

Sighing, Patricia got off the train and onto the slushy platform. She dragged her bags through the crystallized water and secretly wished that Edward could've been there to carry her bags for her. He'd said that he'd come a week after Patricia, he just had some unfinished business.

Damn him.

The apartment was not even an apartment; it was one of the military's dorm rooms in a building about two hundred meters away from the military building itself, which – thank the Lord – wasn't far away from the train station.

It was Monday and she had until Thursday to unpack and install herself in the dorm room. The room was small and... white. Nothing more. Sure, there was a little furniture such as dining table, couch, and bookshelf, but nothing more.

Ah. Nothing to do about that, huh?

-----

The week had gone, and Patricia had started her new job as a secretary for the Colonel.

A secretary.

A secretary.

A _secretary_?

Still filled to the brink with ferocity and God knew what else she did her job, and did it well. No single mail was to reach the Colonel without her checking it first, no visitor was allowed in if they hadn't gone through her.

And she hated every single minute of it.

Being always happy and smile at every single bastard, whoever they might be, wasn't exactly Patricia's cup of tea. The only light was the Monday when Edward came by to pick up the keys so he could move in. He helped her with the work until lunch, when they both went to the dorm room and set up a bed in the smaller of the two bedrooms.

Riza came by on the afternoon.

"Hello, Patricia," she said.

"Hi, Lieutenant," Patricia answered.

"I just wanted to give you this," Riza said and handed Patricia a bunch of papers.

"What is this?" Patricia asked worriedly.

"Your diet. You can't eat like a teenager if you want to be able to protect yourself."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Patricia said, but silently cursed her for not being allowed to eat for herself.

'_Damn you_.'

---

Song of the day: False Pretense - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus


	45. Caught in a Bad Romance

Look, people. I know that I haven't updated in forever. I haven't even been on this site in forever.

Now, a kinda bad chapter. Sorry 'bout that. Reviews will make my day better. I have one or two finished chapters, but I'll see if I can find the motivation to put them up.

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.  
**

Chapter forty-five: Caught in a Bad Romance

The weeks went by, one after another. Work was as boring as ever. The dorm was small. The training with the good Lieutenant was hard. Edward was there, kind as never before. Most of the time Patricia was just confused. She hadn't heard anything from Alexander, nor did she want to. She had found a better way of killing time.

Edward.

Most of the time she just looked at him while he read in one of his damn books, on occasion they talked about something, and the more Patricia got to know him, the more interested she became. Sure, they had known each other for over a year, but they had never talked this much. They did more talking than she and Alexander had ever done.

Then one week, she got sick. Not some disease like cancer or lupus or something, just a common flu. It was a really bad case of it, though. She wasn't able to work or anything. She just lied home doing nothing at all.

Edward became like her little nurse. He ran around and did different stuff for her, made her chicken soup, fetched cough mixture and so on.

One Thursday in the middle of November she lied as usual on her couch, sick and tired of not being able to do anything by herself. Edward was out to get some cough mixture – that old woman in the pharmacy really knew what she was doing, that cure worked better than the cough mixture in Paris.

Magic.

Well, as mentioned, she was lying on the couch almost out cold, when the doorbell rang.

"Let yourself in!" she yelled, irritated that Edward couldn't even open the door. When nobody came, Patricia almost thought it was a prank, but went to check the door anyways. Better to please the little bastards than to have them wrap the door in toilet paper.

"Hello, Patricia." A wave of liquor and unbrushed breath hit her hard, and the person in the doorway smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks.

"Alexander?" She said between coughs. Her throat wasn't the best, and the horrible smell didn't do her good.

"Can I come in?" He said while pushing her away from the doorway and stuttered into the tiny hallway.

She gasped as she was pushed into the hard wall.

"Well," Alexander said, sounding very British, "your apartment is terribly…" He paused and turned towards her. "Butt-ass ugly." Big smirk. "Where's your dearly beloved?"

"Thank you," she said cold and lied down on the sofa. "And what dearest Alexander," Patricia changed her dialect into upper-class English, "gives me the great pleasure of your drunken company?" It was hard to sound sarcastic while having a raven shoveled down her throat.

"You never called," he said simply.

Lie, please Patricia, just lie good for once in your life.

"I just got a phone this Wednesday. I was meaning to call you when I got better."

'_Nice one! That one sounded believable. You are a true genius Patricia! Damn I'm good.' _

He laughed hard and picked up a crumbled paper from the back of his pocket. Alexander cleared his throat.

"Six weeks ago, a call from a public phone. The clock was 04.56 pm and the conversation lasted for six-point-thirty-four minutes. The day after that, an external call to a person in Central. The clock was 10.01 am and the conversation lasted for… do I have to say anything else?"

Shit.

"It has been much, y'know, with the move, the new work and… Have you stalked me?"

"Nope," he said while getting closer and closer to Patricia, who became more anxious for each step. "I was just checking on you. Lucky I ran the streets, otherwise I wouldn't have been such a good actor."

He was now only a few inches from her face.

"Is it true that Edward is living with you?"

She snorted, but even in her ears it sounded nervously shaky.

"Edward who?" Stalling, the ultimate solution of everything.

"Edward. Your dearly beloved," he smirked. "You think I don't know nothing?"

Patricia opened her mouth, but no sound came. No lie was born on her lips, no last way out was to be found anywhere in her vocabulary. "I… I"

"You really believe I don't have ways to check you out? You don't have any faith in me, baby?" At this, his forehead almost touched hers with a clash of feverish heat.

"Don't call me baby," she said. Afraid, she was. Not only because she knew that he probably would kick her ass really bad if she said something that she shouldn't, but also since she knew what was going to happen if Edward came home. It wouldn't be pretty, not at all.

"Oh, come on, Trisha. Lemme play a little…" Alexander put his lips against hers, and for a few seconds she didn't know what to do. She was up against a wall, she had fever and probably something more than that, which left her with less than thirty percent of her normal strength, and if she could get out of there, where would she go? So, what could she do? Cough at him?

The only thing she could do was to punch him.

A fist in the stomach, and he let her go, though not for more than a second.

"What are you doing, Trisha? You don't like me anymore? 'S that it?" He pushed her, hard. She fell to the floor and just lied there, not daring to do anything at all. He looked at her, clearly really pissed off, disgusted.

"You're screwing him, aren't you?" he asked.

"No! No…" Patricia exclaimed. "It's nothing like that, we're just friends…"

"Ah, right." He kicked her hard in the ribs. "I know you're lying, I can see it in your face. Tell me the truth!"

Desperately holding onto her head to somehow protect it from the whole thing, she curled up on the floor and prepared herself for more abuse.

"What are you doing?" She heard the voice of her savior from the door. Alexander stood no longer over her, but was thrown out of the dorm and down a few flights of stairs.

"And don't ever come back!" Edward's voice was heard through the door. She heard rushed steps back into the room and was almost unaware that she was being lifted onto a chair and talked to and patched up in certain places.

In his arms, she knew she was going to be okay.

Song of the day: Bad Romance – Lady GaGa


	46. Let this Light Explode

Hello everyone.

Long time no see.

I'm sorry that I've not been updating, but that's life sometimes I guess. I have had this chapter ready for some time now, but I have just forgotten to put it up :S However, I'm doing a rewrite. I realised that I've left out a few rather important details and so on. This is the last chapter I'm going to put up before the rewrite, and I'm sorry that I'm leaving you this "end". This isn't the real end though, so don't despair.

I will publish the first chapter of the rewrite as soon as I have rewritten a few chapters, it shoudln't be too long now.

Anyways, thank you everyone for reading so far, I hope you will all read the rewrite as soon as I've put it out there.

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" – Chuck Palahniuk_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its plot or any of its characters. I only own a space on this website where I can let my fantasy flow freely.**

Chapter forty-six: Let this Light Explode

The incident with Alexander had been creepy, to say the least. Patricia was home almost a week and a half after it happened. It sure felt weird for her that everyone knew about, well, everything. His picture had circulated through the town in an attempt to catch him, but they never found a trace of him, nothing at all. It was like he'd disappeared into nowhere.

But that didn't make Patricia feel any better. The opposite, in fact. Not knowing where he was, not knowing when or where he would strike again… Horrible. Terrifying. Among the worst imaginable. Even though she was scared to death every single time she saw a shadow, she still went to work. She needed to, they wouldn't pay her for being home like some scared little school girl, now, would they?

Working as the Colonel's assistant/secretary/do-it-all wasn't so bad after all. Sure, it would bore her out of her mind when she didn't have anything to do, but as long as the mail kept coming, as long as the people kept calling, she was doing okay. It was a job she could stand and she needed the money to survive.

She was still living in that little military dorm room, and she felt like she always was going to. It was nice to have everything at a reasonable distance; the grocery store, work, hospitals… You name it.

And besides, Edward was living with her. That didn't exactly make things worse, so to say. He had been a great help, keeping her company when she was lonely, leaving her alone when she felt like she had to be just that. They talked about everything. In fact, he was easier to talk to than Robin had been back in the time when she'd lived in Paris. Robin had always been this friend she could have great times with, he was the one she was joking with and never ever could be serious with. Dawn, on the other hand, was the other friend, the friend who was always serious and stuff, the one she could have deep philosophical discussions with. Edward was like the two of them combined.

But, still, he was kind of even more. Every time she looked at him it was like the lights dimmed everywhere else and only his bright yellow-ish hair shone like the sun on Earth.

Though, she always felt corny and foolish and really stupid when she put words to those thoughts.

But, wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? Kind of corny, sort of stupid and at the same time almost nice?

She was sitting at her desk kindly sorting through the Colonel's mail, when she saw a really strange thing. A letter addressed to her in his mail. She opened it and read the note inside:

_Patricia._

_Come to the café at the end of Claude st at noon. I'll buy you coffee. _

_Love__ Edward. _

She glanced at the last words over and over again. That crossed-out word just made her day.

The girl just couldn't put away the face she'd put on the whole morning. The people around her must have thought the she was retarded or something, because your everyday person just wasn't able to be so happy. And the closer she came to the small café, the bigger the grin on her face became.

Many, many miles from the happy girl a head was scratched. A woman's hair lock put behind an ear to expose a beautiful face, and a belly was slowly rumbling. The room these three figures were dark, cold and quiet. The man broke the silence with a raspy whisper.

"So, should we do it tonight?" the man with hair sticking out of a hood directed the question to the woman.

"Yes. There is no point waiting, we need to know it as soon as possible. If the girl knows, she'll tell. Otherwise we're just wasting our time." The woman's voice was deep, but at the same time singing. Clear as a bell.

"But she knows too much! We can't just let her go this time!"

The woman laughed.

"I wasn't planning on that either."

She leaned forward and revealed a blood-red tattoo in her cleavage.

This was one of the first times she'd been out alone since the Alex-thing. It wasn't anything big, walking the few hundred meters between the Headquarters and the café where Edward sat waiting for her, but it was more than nothing. And a big step forward. That's a small leap for a man, one giant leap for mankind, or something like that, right?

There it was, an unobtrusive, unpretentious, unspectacular, small, insignificant café with the classical café large-windows-wooden-funiture-pretty-girls-serving-young-couples-in-love-kind of feeling. A little scary, as scary as the grocery store was the first time she was there, as scary as the first day of school. Now scary because she had no idea what lies beyond. Not a safe place.

She got closer, and as she did that she saw a blonde figure sitting by a table nervously picking loose threads and brushing invisible dust off of his red cape. She felt a smile creep onto her lips and she didn't suffocate it, just let it dwell there for a second before carefully wiping it off and entering the café.

She was greeted by a small smile from the well-known figure and a gesture. "Sit down". She sat down across from him, giving him the note.

"Smooth. No one would suspect a letter to the Colonel's secretary to be something dreadful," she said, not quite able to keep the returning smile back.

"I thought it to be a rather good idea. I made it up, so it had to be, well, great." Her ill-disguised smile was mirrored in his face.

"No, seriously, I'm perfectly able to eat lunch at the cafeteria. Why drag me all the way out here for a cup of wishy-washy coffee?" she asked, still half smiling.

"Erm, well… I didn't really plan this well, okay?" His forced shadow-of-a-laugh made Patricia think of bad romantic comedies. "I just… I have no idea what to say."

"Don't think so hard, okay? Just… say whatever comes to mind. Though, I would like you to choose which thoughts you'd like me to hear," Patricia said, not liking the situation. It could either be really good, or really bad, and whichever it was he couldn't bring himself to tell. He looked everywhere but at her. The sky was blue, she saw that. The café was small, the table was made out of some kind of dark wood, the chairs were out of the same material, the pair of orange gerberas was in a mismatching striped vase, she could see all that. The worst part was that he didn't even mumble something to excuse himself, he just sat there.

"And how are things where you are?" she asked, not amused. She was starving and they hadn't even gotten a cup of coffee yet.

"Hm?" He looked up, now finally looking right at her, slightly confused. "Ah, erm, I just…"

"Can't find your words, I can hear that. Or rather, not hear. Can you just please speak soon, I'm getting kind of hungry and I only have like twenty minutes left of my break." Now it was her turn to look away. The floor was actually a little interesting.

"Okay, I obviously can't think of any good way to say this, so, I, just, erm…" He started to pick with his glove, pinching it and twisting the fabric. "I sort of… oh, why is this so fucking hard to say?" In desperation, he slammed his fist onto the table, making everyone in the café glance at them. "I… I sorta like you, okay."

Patricia sat there, stunned. He'd gone back to intensely glaring at the floor, not leaving any emotion for her to interpret in any way. The situation needed her to say something, _now say something before he leaves and never comes back,_ but she couldn't figure out anything to say, _just fucking say something or run away, _what the heck could she say to make him not hate her?

"Me too."

He turned his head up to look at her again. "What?" His heart on his sleeve, he didn't look like that was what he expected.

"Me too. Not like me, I mean, I like me, but I kinda, sorta… like you too." Oh, spoken declarations of love were just too awkward. She panicked. "I need to go now, I need to eat. I'll see you at home later, okay?"

And with that she fled.

She fled through the streets. Why, one can wonder. Why, she wondered. She just needed a nice, peaceful, quiet thinking place. That had gone way too fast. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to think? What the hell?

She jogged into an alley and sat down on the street. She didn't care that the uniform got all dirty, she didn't even think of that. With her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees she sat, heart pounding, breathing heavily. One thought:

'_What?' _

Didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to think. She closed her eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink and when she opened her eyes she saw someone. She blinked because she didn't believe it. She saw someone she wished to never ever see again.

It was Mr. Envious.

Song of the day: The Mirror's Truth – In Flames

As I said, the rewrite is on it's way. Be patient and you shall be rewarded!

Until next time,  
Hugs and kisses  
Cassie


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